


Sing to me, Muse

by VereorInHell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Iliad - Homer, The Silence of the Girls - Pat Barker, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - The Song of Achilles Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Gay Love Story, Crossover, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23931889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VereorInHell/pseuds/VereorInHell
Summary: Crossover Teen Wolf meets TSOA/the Iliad.Set after the war with Monroe. To save the life of his friends, Liam embarks on a quest with a slightly reluctant Theo. Like in a roleplay game, they'll find themselves in a completely different world - and learn something from it.ON HIATUS
Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	1. Introduction: the status quo

**Author's Note:**

> I solemnly swear I'm trying not to mess this one up.
> 
> And, look: I've got the plot already laid out, I can do this. If I don't lose my resolve. And if this gets any attention at all, obviously. So help me out, maybe?

It’s starts like this.

After the war, Theo is minding his own damn business.

He sticks to Beacon Hills and doesn’t leave as he’s always imagined doing. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have any other options. He just likes the town, even after everything. It’s the only place he’s got any connection to. Even if most of those connections are either dead or not particularly fond of him. But he stays. Because this is the only place where he has some kind of past. Even if it’s not the easiest one to deal with.

He keeps out of the McCall pack's way, not really a fan of how they expect him to answer Scott’s every beck and call, or even worse, how Liam does. Little Beta keeps asking for his company more and more, after those few stunts they’ve pulled together – which, admittedly, have been really cool. Like at the morgue, or the whole hospital ordeal.

Yes, half the reason Theo planned on becoming an alpha was never being alone, never feeling alone anymore, but he’s never intended to become a puppet, whose strings other people pull. And Liam always has some kind of leverage against him. First it was the sword, then it was the threat for survival. Now Theo isn’t sure anymore what Liam might be using, Theo just follows. Little Beta texts him, pack meeting happens at this time, at this place. And he expects Theo to be there.

It’s not that Theo obeys Liam’s will. But attending those meetings can only help Theo, rather than hindering him, so. Why not. Every once in a while he and Liam fight, and he can remind precious, perfect Little Beta that nobody is pulling Theo’s strings. At least not at the moment, and surely not Liam. If Theo chooses to come to pack meetings or listens to Scott, it’s only because he chooses so. Because he’s smart enough to know it’s better siding with the pack rather than against it. Theo is ambitious, but not suicidal: he’s learned the hard way that nothing good comes from antagonizing these pure-hearted assholes.

The day comes when Scott learns that Monroe is hunting another pack down, not even in California. Good, true alpha that he is, he immediately decides to go after her and stop her, help the threatened pack. Worst case scenario he swears to help any survivors who might escape her wrath. He needs help, though, or so he announces, to the room full of pack members and allies.

There is a long, embarrassing moment when Scott turns to Theo and holds his gaze, Theo wondering if Scott is expecting him to side along. And, well. It’s not like Theo has anything against it, but. Usually it’s Liam, the one picking Theo for help, to choose him as a partner, not Scott. The alpha might still be nursing his pure heart, the very same that Theo has once tried and failed to carve out from his chest.

Yeah, it’s not that unimaginable, that Scott doesn’t want to partner up for mission with Theo. It doesn’t explain why Liam does, either, though.

In the end, the party leaves: Scott, with Derek and Argent. Stiles is providing them all the info that he can put together, hacking and cracking god knows how many FBI and other government owned servers. Liam has tried to argue he could join, offering Theo’s services without even asking him directly, but Scott turns him down.

“You stay here, and take care of the pack. Someone’s gotta stay and protect the city” Scott replies. Liam looks like he would love to, but even he can’t argue any further against that tone, patient and reasonable, as if Scott was explaining the most obvious things to a kid.

Cue in: another very embarrassing moment, with Scott pinning Theo with half a glare, half a pitiful expression. Theo has a vague idea the alpha is trying to gather the force to ask him, or to demand that he help Liam, and the puppy pack. Before he manages, Lydia sighs impatiently.

“Scott is trying to ask you to please help Liam protecting the city, Theo” she declares loudly, not bothering to hide how annoyed she is. She doesn’t like Theo hanging close to them, and that only goes to her credit, even in Theo’s books, but she is much quicker than Scott in picking allies and not. Even those whose company she personally finds unpleasant, to say the least.

Theo agrees.

That’s how he gets stuck to Beacon Hills, for another unspecified amount of time, at the end of which he knows he still will not know whether to leave, where to head, or if he should stay.

He helps the puppy pack, enjoys using the term more, the more obvious it becomes that it pisses Liam off. He and Liam scuffle almost every time they meet, to the point that Theo’s nose is permanently sensitive, the way it is when his healing is working on resetting bones and cartilages together. The first time they saw, Mason and Corey almost tried to break them off, before Malia stopped them.

“Those two are just playing. Let them. Come on, guys. Let’s bet who wins this round”

Which is how another tradition was born, the one that Mason has baptized, ‘the weekly competition of the puppy pack’, adopting Theo’s nickname much to Liam’s chagrin, but unable to resist such a perfect term. The puppy pack members bet on Liam and Theo, whose fights are an almost daily occurrence, and they place a bet on who the winner is. At the end of the week, they count how many wins Liam has, and how many Theo. Follows a round of payment, which rarely consists of money, and more often is duty to call or bring pizza.

Ah, yes, right on that cue: another situation that Theo has no idea how he’s ended right in the middle of, are the daily puppy pack’s meetings for homework. They usually find place at the McCall’s household, even in Scott’s absence, and are generally followed at least twice a week by pizza nights or video games sessions, until each teen is called home by their parents.

Now, Theo doesn’t like this. But he doesn’t dislike it either. He thinks he might get used to it. He definitely prefers it to Stiles’ persistent suspiciousness, or Scott’s uncertain staring. Lydia doesn’t bother him: she tags along but feels as if she wasn’t really there, so immersed she always is in whatever manuals she’s studying from. She’s just a constant, if silent, presence, one that Theo learns quickly not to find threatening or that he needs to guard himself from.

Progressively, he lowers his guard around most of the puppy pack's memberd, with the only exception of Malia. But with her it's mutual: she doesn’t go easy with her snarky remarks. The only thing that bother Theo is that whenever she’s playing with them, Theo never manages to win whatever game they’re playing. His superior abilities at tactics and fighting skills make him unbeatable, and he often slays Liam’s character to the ground many, many, many times a day. Theo is by now addicted to the wide-eyed expression on incredulity blooming on Liam’s face, while Theo’s character massacres Liam’s one. Followed by the inevitable punch in the face, but, well. Theo thinks those are more a confirmation of his superiority rather than a win from Liam’s side.

But with Malia? It’s impossible. She plays dirty where Liam would never. She punches Theo in the face BEFORE he’s even gone close to winning, and goes so far to steal the controller from Theo’s hands and sitting on it. And Theo would try to get it back… but Malia fights dirty, and she’s got a mean right hook.

Malia’s dirty stratagems to win video game competitions against Theo aside, scuffles with Liam aside, Theo is relatively sticking to his own damn business. It could never, ever ever be said that, when the shit inevitably hits the proverbial fan, this has had anything to do with Theo. No sir: this time he is fully, one-hundred percent innocent.

Of course, that doesn’t help much.

The witch bites hard on her lip, trying to stifle the fit of laughter.

Oh, yes, these are perfect. These are absolutely perfect. She can teach them so much, and, if they don’t pass her trial, she gets to feed on three delicious creatures, so full of life. One even a supernatural, not just a bland human!

‘Oh, this is fantastic! Supernaturals taste so much better than humans…’ she thinks, rubbing her hands together in satisfaction.

She scurries away, keeping her presence hidden in the dark of the empty streets. She has seen enough for now, she knows what her next step will be. She walks fast, unbothered by the darkness and undisturbed by the residents. Her most effective spell keeps people from seeing her, so they will not notice her. even the loud screeching sound of the door of this old house opening doesn’t attract the least attention.

‘Magic, it does wonders’ she thinks, still full of glee.

The discovery of the McCall pack is one of the best occurrences that have ever happened to her. She really has to send a fruit basket to that hunter, for talking so well and to such deep extent of their potentials. She can’t even remember when the last time she found so promising people have been. Or where that hunter might be now.

‘Oh, wait, he’s dead, I’ve killed him. Whatever. Now, these beautiful people, I need to pick three’ she tells herself. She doesn’t need to, she knows the ritual by heart – has more than half invented it herself, after all, and she’s perfected it to an art, but she is always so lonely, she likes to talk to herself. Especially while preparing for a ritual, it sooths her.

“One representing the heart, one the brain, one the strength. Oh, the last one is definitely going to be that beautiful coyote girl… but I need to pick a letter. Always pick a letter, granny said! It makes things look better. More proper” she whispers to herself, spreading old leaves on the floor.

She opens a jar, has to struggle a bit to unscrew the lid open, and splashes some of its jelly content on the dry leaves. She usually chooses victims with names with the same initials, favoring the letter M in particular, even if there is no real reason behind it – well, other than the fact that her name starts with an M, too.

She writes a name in the jelly-looking substance on the floor, and then a second, and a third one.

The morning after, the inhabitants of Beacon Hills wake up and start for their day. Everyone in the city yawns and stretches and, with different degrees of glee, abandons their beds. Everyone but three people, who are trapped in the coma-like sleep induced by the spell of the witch. Not hurting them, no, but keeping them trapped in a limbo.

Their names are still written on the dirty floor of an old house that sits empty for long, where a witch has taken residence the night prior. The stained, wooden floor is covered by a thick layer of dust, everywhere but in a single point, where three names are written, in a red, weird looking substance, something jelly-based and now solidified.

The three names are Malia Tate, Mason Hewitt and Melissa McCall.


	2. The witch, the trial, the champions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack is forced to play the witch's game, by her own rules. Champions are chosen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, it's my first crossover ever. And I usually hate crossovers. So.

“Liam!”

“Uh?”

“Liam, Liam! LIAM!”

“What!!!”

Let’s be realistic: who would like to wake up to frantic voices desperately calling your name from the window? Liam sure doesn’t.

He wrenches himself from his beloved, warm bed and almost tears off the window in his haste to open it, sticks his head outside, glaring down at Theo, he presumes, because that was his voice he’s heard…

And he does find Theo, standing beside his parked truck. He also sees Corey, not really standing as he’s more likely collapsed against the hood of the car, or maybe it's on Theo, it’s not clear. He’s trembling slightly, faces covering his face, and Liam would think he’s laughing, except the emotions rolling off from him are the worst kind possible: fear, panic, pain.

No Mason in sight.

If Corey goes to Theo and Mason is not around, it can only mean one thing: Mason is hurt. Liam has learned it the hard, worst way possible: experience. He almost throws himself out of the window, stopping only with one leg through and realizing he’s still only in his boxers.

He turns, grabs and slides on hastily a pair of jeans and goes back to the process of jumping out of the window and landing on the street. His parents now know about his new abilities, after all, and anyway, they aren’t around to witness this. Which is probably even better than them knowing.

He runs at Corey’s side and scoops the chameleon into the tightest hug he can give, without risking Corey’s ribs. Corey tucks his face in the hollow of Liam’s shoulder, which means that he has to bend down slightly because Liam is the shortest of the group. Liam caresses his hair with one hand, using the other to rub soothing circles on Corey’s back. The desperate way Corey clings to him, arms almost choking him at the neck and tears feeling cold against his naked, warm skin worry Liam even more.

He casts a look Theo’s way. The chimera is standing there, silent, his face expressionless. He’s calm but not untouched by the scene. He’s wearing a hoodie that looks hastily worn as Liam’s jeans are. He doesn’t have socks. His pants hang terribly low on his hips, no belt in sight. For Theo to put on clothes in such a messy way it means he’s had to take them off and back on very fast.

“Did you shift? Where’s Mason?” Liam asks.

Theo widens his eyes a bit, looking at the back of Corey’s head. As if waiting for him to start explaining. It’s pretty obvious that Corey won’t, though. Theo sighs softly from his nose and shifts slightly in his place.

“He was supposed to pick Corey up this morning but didn’t show up. Corey hasn’t waited and has gone at his place. His parents were desperately trying to wake him up. They almost called an ambulance. He’s still sleeping” Theo explains. He stops, shakes his head, grimaces: “I’m not making much sense either, uh?”

Liam smiles softly, encouraging. Theo starts again. Mason was late. Corey worried, and didn't wait much. He went to the Hewitts’ and found Mason’s parents in tears, Mason looking perfectly fine in his bed, only not waking up. They mentioned calling an ambulance. Corey stopped them, smelling magic on Mason. He called Liam but Liam was still sleeping, which Liam remembers with a pang of shame. Corey called Theo. Theo came. He confirmed smelling magic on Mason too and shifted, in front of the even more shocked parents of Mason. He sniffed around half the city and couldn’t find anything.

“But with magic it’s not a surprise. Magic is easy to conceal to the senses”

Liam nods: “Where is Mason now?” he asks.

“His parents have taken him to the hospital. Looks like he’s perfectly fine… only in a magic coma” Theo answers, grimacing at the end.

Lima scowls and shakes his head.

“Fuck” he swears.

Theo nods.

That’s the moment when Theo’s phone starts ringing loudly, tearing apart the relative silence fallen. Theo picks the call. It’s Lydia.

“Malia doesn’t wake up!” she explains, frantically: “she looks as if she’s still sleeping, I can’t wake her up! Check Mason, is he okay?”

Liam frowns. How did Lydia know about Mason?

“Theo” the banshee goes on, her tone more demanding and focused now: “you have to check on Mason. Scott’s mother too. If we are too late…”

“Too late for what?” Liam interrupts. Theo shifts the phone, but it’s not necessary, Lydia has heard perfectly the first time. She sighs, a long, defeated sound.

“It’s already happened then, am I right? Mason has already been hit by the spell, too?” she asks.

Theo and Liam share a look. Corey shifts in Liam’s arm and look at the phone, confused.

“Why do you know, Lydia?” he asks, his voice croaky and hoarse.

She sighs again: “I’ve had a vision. I woke up from it only one hour ago. I hoped… I hoped there was time”

Right after Theo, Lydia has called Peter Hale. Unsurprisingly, the man shows up, blabbers something to Malia’s adoptive father that doesn’t even remotely sound credible but to which the other doesn’t protest, and brings her to the McCall’s. He and Lydia are the first to find Melissa McCall, also magically asleep.

They deposit Malia and Melissa on the bed in the master bedroom. Theo, Corey and Liam manages to persuade Mason’s parents to let them take their son from the hospital. His sleeping body is laid on the same bed, on Melissa’s other side.

Peter vanishes, comes back only a hour later. By that time, the entire McCall pack has been alerted, every single member informed. They have all gathered there, in the sitting room of Scott’s house.

“This is a spell” Lydia explains to the entire pack. Everyone who could join physically is present, the rest are connected with skype calls. Stiles is a grainy, pixelated face close to her, and so is Scott, with Argent and Derek.

The silence feels unreal. Theo, sitting beside Liam, doesn’t dare moving. He looks at Malia, lying still in a magic slumber. Only the night before she was crushing him with her weight to keep him from getting his controller back. In the scuffle he has accidentally brushed at the hem of her panties under her skirt, turned scarlet and retreated his hand as if burned. She hasn’t even cared, and she’s won the game.

Now, there she lies, unnaturally still.

‘What a contrast’ Theo thinks.

Liam shifts in his seat. They’re all sitting very close one to the other, due to lack of space. His shoulder bumps into Theo’s. He turns and finds Theo’s silent eyes. They look at each other for a while, then Liam turns back, engulfing Corey in a one-armed hug and keeping him close. Corey lets him.

“I had a dream” Lydia goes on, not making eye contact. She reeks of shame, and Theo almost shakes his head. He wants to tell her that it makes no sense that she feels guilty. Nobody blames this on her. he keeps his mouth shut, though. He knows better than attracting attention on himself, in a difficult circumstance like this.

“Or, better, I had a vision. There was a witch. She put a spell on Malia, Mason and Melissa”

“Is the alliteration a coincidence? Any chance it might help us find this witch?” Stiles asks.

Lydia swallows, but doesn’t get to answer because Peter Hale precedes her.

“I know this witch, and I’ve already found her. She agreed to come here and expose us her terms”

The line of his jaw is tense, Theo notices, and his face barely looks the same, without his trademark smirk of superiority. Peter Hale has been hit too close to where he cares, his daughter being the only one, after himself, that he could not bear losing. He irradiates anger and danger, in a way that shuts up anyone in his proximity.

“What do you mean, you know her?”

Well, anyone but Stiles, apparently.

“I don’t know her personally. But I know what she does. She targets packs, big families, groups of people. She doesn’t care if humans or supernaturals. She chooses three members, one representing the heart of the group, one the brain, one the strength. Her preys fall asleep, as if in a coma. Then she shows up and forces the rest of the group to undertake a trial”

“What kind of trial?” Scott asks. Theo has to hand it to him, he looks and sounds calm, but if he was here, Theo knows he would smell his nervousness and anger from miles away.

“I don’t know. But if the group does not succeed in the trial, the victims die” Peter answers, his jaw setting in a hard line: “so, whatever trial she gives us, I’m going to make sure we win it”

“It would be good to know what kind of trial she goes for. So we could pick who does it” Stiles reasons aloud.

“I’ll do it. I’m coming back” Scott says from the phone.

“Scott…” Argent’s voice comes slightly muffled from the phone. The hunter places one hand on his shoulder: “Scott, I understand. You know how much I care for your mother. But we are so close to Monroe, and you have seen what she’s done to that pack”

“We could take them just the two of us” Derek suggests.

Argent shakes his head.

Scott closes his eyes and swears.

Liam’s head snaps to the side, his eyes glowing yellow and his fangs peeking out. He growls softly, and Theo follows his eyes, towards the closed door… Oh.

“She’s here” he announces, to the room that falls immediately quiet.

Peter Hale is already up, goes to the door, opens it. To his credit, he doesn’t even make the gesture to maim the nice-looking young woman on the doorstep. She smiles at him, coy.

“Well, well, well, am I late? I’m sorry. Shall we start now?” she asks, not waiting for an answer and marching inside. She moves with a grace that Theo doesn’t believe possible with heels that high, her hair wavy and a glossy black. She smells like herbs and magic, but doesn’t reek of evil.

And Theo should know how to recognize evil.

“You’re the witch?” Stiles asks, slightly in disbelief.

She grins at the computer beside Lydia, and winks at her: “Oh, the banshee! Good morning, my dear, how are you? Was the dream too scary? I hope it wasn’t too scary” she asks.

She doesn’t sound mean, just out of line. Lydia glares at her.

“I’ve had worse” she replies, icily.

The witch chuckles: “Yes, yes, I am sure. Now, please, everyone, you all look too tense. Let me start with the important things: your loved ones are safe. They are not risking their life. Well.. not yet” she amends.

Liam growls. Only Theo hears it though, covered by the joined, louder growls coming from Peter Hale and Scott. The witch doesn't seem to feel threatened though. She ignores them and continues, strutting towards the middle of the room.

Theo looks at her as she passes him: she is young, but not as young as he thought at first. He bets she's much older than she looks. She smells like spells that don't hurt, and that's good news, but, she's also just put three people in a coma that might kill them, so she can't be good either.

"I'll make it short. Last time I've had to do with a werewolves pack they were extremely unpleasant. Now, I've learned my lesson! I'll keep the gloating out of this, just for your sake"

"I think that'd be for your sake" Stiles mutters.

She winks at him.

"You see, being a witch it's an extremely lonely matter. And you need life energy to be able to do magic. One couldn't live as long as I have just with one's own life force. No, we need an... External supply, let's say" she starts.

"So you feed on the life energy of others?" Lydia guesses. The witch claps her hands, smiling brightly.

"Yes! Correct, I do. But, I don't always do. Because I feel lonely, I need to have some sort of... Relationships, right? Everybody needs friends"

"If this is when you ask us to be our friend..." Liam mutters hotly under his breath. The witch hears him, and turns his way, but Theo grabs the wrist of Liam's free hand and squeezes. Liam's attention is diverted all on Theo, with Theo holding eyes with the witch. She seems to think it has been Theo the one to talk.

She beams at him, but otherwise ignores Liam's comment. She turns back to dedicate her full attention to Lydia and the computer with Scott and Argent. Theo has the feeling that, despite giving him her back, she's also keeping tracks of Peter's movements, too.

Which only proves that she's smart.

"I make a pact with the people whose beloved I take. I challenge them to undertake a trial. Pass it, and your beloved live. Not only, but whoever passes personally my trial will also gain considerable knowledge on their own nature. And we all know, knowledge is power" she winks at Theo, in a way that Theo finds disturbing, connected with those words.

"So, if we win the trial, you'd be making us a favor?" Stiles incredulously repeats.

She nods.

"And if we fail?" Scott asks through gritted teeth.

The witch smiles, warm and patient: "Well, we all know what would happen then. Your beloved die, and so do the champions you picked, that couldn't pass the trial"

Scott almost roars. Well, not almost: he does. The sound is cut off by Argent's quick hand, darting for the mute button. He clicks it again once Scott's finished.

"So, if we pass, you will leave us alone?" he asks, in his usual, businesslike hunter tone.

She nods: "I admit it, it doesn't happen too often, but, it has happened. I still have friends somewhere on this side of existence, who have passed my test. They still treasure my company, after the lesson they've learned thanks to me!"

Theo is still frowning at her wordings about sides of existence, when his hand slams back on Liam's wrist to keep him from attacking the witch. She looks unimpressed, but there is a cold shadow in her eyes when she looks at Liam.

"If you try to hurt me though, rest assured you'll never see your beloved breath again" she threatens. 

Liam swallows, his eyes flicking back to normal blue. Theo doesn't let go, just in case.

"What's this trial. What do you want us to do?" Scott growls.

Smiling patiently, she turns back to him and explains. 

"You will chose two champions. They, as well, will fall under the same spell, and they will look as if asleep or in a coma. They will find themselves in an alternative reality. Your beloved are all already there, by the way. And, this reality is shaped on the champions, so don't worry about not fitting in" 

"What do you mean?" Stiles demands: "what does 'shaped on the champions mean'?"

She nods, just as patiently as before, and goes back to her explanation.

It sounds practiced, Theo notices, and he wonders how many times she's done this.

"Think of it as a roleplay game. The champions find themselves in a reality that maybe has historically existed, maybe not. But they fit to it. And there is a plot, let's say, that the champions have to follow and respect, step by step. If they do so, at the end of the game they wake up and live"

"And the people you've got as hostages will wake up as well?" Scott inquires.

The witch nods in affirmation: "Yes. Your beloved ones will live as well. On the contrary, if the champions fail to pass the trial they will also die"

"Splendid" Stiles mutters from the computer.

"Now" the witch goes on: "as in any game, there are rules. But the only ones who have to respect them are the ones aware that they're playing. Which means the champions"

"What does that mean? Won't our friends be in that same reality as the champions?" Lydia asks: "won't they know it's a fake reality?"

The witch tilts her head: "Generally, after meeting the champions they become aware of the situation and go back to their previous self. The one you know. So they will recognize you and behave as you think normal. But they might also not recognize you. This is not asked to them. In the game, they are living according to a part of themselves that you might not know"

"Ok, so, there is a plot for this game, but if Mason, Malia and Melissa screw up with it, they won't be affected, right?" 

Liam's voice takes everyone by surprise. Not the witch, who smiles and nods.

"Exactly. But the champions must find out what this plot is, and follow it closely"

"How will they know they're doing the right thing?" Lydia asks.

"I will also be in the game, and they can come to me whenever they want. If they have guessed what is the direction they have to follow, I'll simply confirm it. I will not lie to them. There's no fun in that"

Scott growls at her last sentence, and Argent doesn't mute him, too busy glaring himself.

"I guess we can't figure out the plot before entering the game, can we" Stiles says.

The witch smirks and shakes her head: "Nope" she says, popping the end of the word.

"What about the end. How will the champions know the end is the one they think?" Lydia asks again: "Simply by trusting you?"

The witch raises an eyebrow: "My dear banshee, I understand your lack of trust and still it hurts. I'll let you know that not only I never lie to the champions in the game, but I also protect them in this reality. While trapped in my game world, they will be sleeping here, they could find themselves in any type of danger. I will place a magic barrier around them, one that only myself and the champions can pass through. Now, if you think that doesn't deserve trust..."

Scott growls, but quickly closes his mouth midway: "How long do we have to complete your game?" he asks instead.

"Three days. If by the end of the third day you have not succeeded, your friends will stay in their limbo situation while I feed on them until they are cerebrally dead"

Turns out, it's not easy to pick a champion, let alone two. Scott insists on coming back, but the witch points out the time is already running, and he'd waste a solid part of their allowed three days before even starting. 

The pack turns Peter Hale down. He doesn't look surprised. Lydia offers herself immediately after. Theo wonders if that's objective thinking or just the guilt talking. It's true, with her knowledge and banshee background, she is smart and quick to things. But, and Theo really doesn't like to agree with Stiles, Stiles says, what if this is one of those brutal alternative reality where you only survive with supernatural strength? Banshees' screams are powerful, but they require a lot of energy from their host.

Theo feels Liam fidgets at his side, and knows what's going to happen the moment he accidentally makes eye contact with him.

"I can go. I'm good at games and I'm good at history. If this is a made up situation, I've read a lot, maybe I have some chance to guess where I am"

"I'll come with you" Corey pipes up.

"No Corey, you wouldn't be objective enough" Scott replies: " I know you mean well, but we can't risk a mistake"

"Are you saying so because you mean it, or because we told you that you can't go?" Peter Hale asks, in a tone that speaks volumes about how little he cares about an answer.

"It's fine" Liam intervenes, glaring at Peter and turning to Scott right after: "Theo will come with me" he says.

Theo's head snaps up: "I beg your pardon?!" 

Liam looks at him, confused, frowning: "What? You're smart. I've got the history part, you've got the nerd part. And we're both supernaturals"

Theo can't really argue against that.

And if he was completely honest, the idea of embarking in this type of journey sounds appealing, for more than a reason. The pack might finally accept him, if he contributes to saving Malia, Melissa and Mason. And, as the witch herself so eloquently put it, knowledge on his true nature is power. 

He's an engineered creature whose DNA is a mystery, a riddle that nobody can crack, and the only ones who had a clue (if they had ever given a damn about knowing) are dead. He's got plenty of reasons to gain knowledge on his own nature.

He shrugs, conscious of the eyes of every member of the pack set on him, and slides on his careless mask: "Fine" he agrees, as if against his will. 

"Splendid!" the witch exclaims loudly, clapping her hands just as loudly and startling some of them, Liam included. 

"Let me add some last information. You will find yourselves in another world. But you will notice that you will be able to interact with other beings. This is because I want you to be able to do so. You will be put in the conditions to understand the others, and you will know how to behave"

"Wait" Theo interrupts her: "does this mean that you'll be in my head? You will directly put things into my head?"

Oh no, he doesn't like this. He definitely doesn't like this.

Liam looks confused and shifts his eyes from Theo to the witch, and viceversa. She grins Like a Cheshire cat. 

"Darling, you will have to play the part of a character. There are things that you'll need to know. What to do and what not. The character you'll play has lived a life till the moment before you take over. The connection from them to you must be smooth" she objects.

"I still don't see why you have to see inside my head" Theo argues.

"Who would want to see inside your head..." Stiles mutters. Theo ignores him. Everyone does.

The witch smiles patiently and chuckles softly, almost fondly: "I am the referee. I have to know. You will be inside the body of one of my characters, that for me are precious. You have to adapt to them. You will sort of become them, for the time you will be playing"

Theo likes it even less. How can he learn something on his own nature, if he'll be moulded into someone else? If she twists him into becoming another person? He doesn't like this. He really doesn't. But Liam still looks at him with a frown, as if asking what's wrong. He's obviously fine with this, he doesn't care. He must think Mason is worthy enough. Theo envies him for that: he doesn't have someone he would do anything for. 

'Except maybe Liam himself?' 

He pushes that thought down, as if it burned him.

He shakes his head and raises his palms, throwing an exasperated look at Liam. He smirks, satisfied, then turns back to the witch, glaring.

"We're ready" he declares.

Theo rolls his eyes. 

Theo and Liam lies down in the middle of the room, on the thick, plush carpet of the McCall household. 

Theo takes a long breath and casts a glance towards Liam, meeting his eyes. Little Beta looks so nervous he's close to panic, and yet he's trying to push it all down, hiding behind a resolute glare. 

The witch stands between them, shaking her hands in front of her and murmuring under her breath, in a language that nobody in the room seems to recognize. Liam looks up at her, nervous, close now to lose his grasp on control. 

Without thinking, Theo reaches over and grabs his wrist.

"Hey" he whispers.

Liam turns to him, frowning, confused.

Theo wiggles his brows: "Race you there?"

Liam snorts.

The spell falls over them, enveloping like a warm blanket, plunging them into a deep sleep.

Everything fades to black.

"Are they sleeping?" Stiles asks.

"You better have told us the truth" Peter Hale threatens, looking straight into the eyes of the witch. 

She laughs it off and makes a whipping gesture with her hand. Theo and Liam are surrounded by a flash of light, and then there is a sort of luminous sphere surrounding them. 

"Remember, do not try to enter the barrier. It wouldn't be a good idea" she recommends, looking in Peter's way. His face is unreadable, but the way his jaw is clenching speaks loudly.

"Remember, I'm leaving now, but you can always reach me. Do not be afraid for the champions, or for your beloved three resting upstairs. And you better not try to act on any of your idiotic threats" she says, sounding threatening very much herself and looking at Peter: "I'm the only one who can end the game before the time is up"

"We won't" Scott promises.

When she leaves, nobody tries to stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment. First because I obviously have a problem with attention and second because I really need a feedback with this one.


	3. The Life of a Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo and Liam wake up to discover their new identity.

The first thing he comes back to, is the salty smell of the sea. Which is the weirdest thing, because Theo has never seen the ocean, himself. This thought causes his brain to produce two additional, important information. One: he knows this is a sea, not an ocean. Two: his name is not Theo, but he doesn’t remember which is. 

He opens his eyes and winces, shutting them immediately. He shields them with a hand and pushes up on an elbow. He has to blink several times before his brain can make a sensible use of the information his eyes are giving it. Processing images he has never seen before.

The sea, blue and aqua, lazy waves running to shore, small and almost caressing. The water is a pale, light blue close to where he lays, transparent, and he can see the sand of the beach under, the small pebbles rolling with the never-ending dance of the waves. Far, not too far from his point, the water turns a darker shade, a progression of darker blue the farther his eyes go.

He looks away from the sea, taking in the sky, bright and without a cloud. The sky of a sunny, warm day, perhaps of summer. The air is hot, made pleasant by a gentle breeze that blows from farther away from shore. The sand under his legs and feet is warm, small and bigger pebbles, and he shuffles his feet, opens his toes, the pebbles sticking to his damp skin. He reaches out with one hand and takes a handful of those tiny rocks: they feel cold where they are damp, but hot where the sun has warmed them up.

He’s tempted not to look any further, to only fill his brain of this: the sky, the sea, the gentle rolling of the water, the spurts the waves make when they touch the tip of his toes. And yet he knows he has to see, needs to check what’s behind him, as well. He looks around, pushing up on his knees. This brings him closer to water, and the waves hit him on his tights, cold water making him hiss at the initial impact.

That is also the moment he realizes he’s naked. He doesn’t care, he has never been the one to worry about modesty, not even when he was, indeed, the person to whom the name Theo belonged to.

‘But, what’s my name now, then?’ he wonders, and squints his eyes to look farther in, on the beach.

In his proximity, the beach is empty, but he can see, barely a couple of kilometers from there, a fleet of ships, their body of wood and tar gleaming under the sunrays. There is a multitude of people camped between and close to the ships, and a city, not too far, further in. He can see the biggest fortified walls he has ever seen – which are also the only ones he has ever seen, or at least that he has memory of.

“Theo?” a voice asks.

Theo (so, is this his name?) whips his head to the side, to the direction the voice came from. A blond boy stands, looking a bit unsteady on his feet and just as naked as he is. There is a bundle of clothes between him and Theo, only a few steps away but safe from the water, out of reach of the waves. Theo squints at the boy, taking in his tanned, muscular form. Blue eyes, bulky muscles, light chest hair almost shaved. His hair is long on his shoulders, reaching maybe even lower. A red mouth, moving, saying…

‘Oh. He’s talking to me’ he realizes.

“Theo? Are you alright?”

‘Liam’ he thinks.

With the thought comes the knowledge, the memory that yes, he is Theo. And that is Liam. That they are both here, in a world that they have to find out what is. He knows now why his own name feels foreign, unfitting with his body. He remembers the witch, the trial, agreeing to a quest for knowledge on his own nature – and to save the lives of Liam’s friends.

Theo’s friends?

Liam takes a step closer to him, wobbly on his legs and because of the slope of the shore, where the waves eat the earth away from under his feet.

“Liam” Theo says, because he needs saying it.

The boy nods: “Are you alright?” he repeats. He finishes covering the distance that separates them. His hands feel cold on Theo’s skin, at first, but they burn right after. Liam’s body runs hot, a furnace, like the sun. Theo looks where those fingers touch his skin, then back into Liam’s blue eyes.

He tastes salt on his lips, and he looks around, squinting his eyes and trying to take in as much as possible.

“Where the hell are we?” he asks, still looking in direction of the ships, and the city.

Liam’s breath catches, as if only now seeing the ships, the people, the city. Theo squints his eyes more, tries to distinguish why there is a solid wall of dust more or less halfway between the ships and the fortified city.

“Is that a fortress?” he asks, pointing to the city and looking back at Liam.

The blond boy is deep in thoughts, his eyes almost glassy. His mouth is a thin line and his jaw is clenched. When he speaks, his voice has gone so quiet Theo is surprised he can still hear it.

“No, Theo. It’s an entire city. A fortified city” he corrects: “and those are ships. With black sails. I…” he pins Theo with those blue eyes. They look bigger, widened in fear for a realization that he still is not sure of.

“I think I know where we’ve ended, but, I need to be sure before saying out loud” he explains.

He seems to remember only then about his hand on Theo’s arm. He takes it away, stepping back. He offers it Theo immediately after, helping him up, and they stumble together, as Theo takes it and hoists himself on his feet. Together, still close, however not touching, they look in direction of the ships.

“Where do you think we are?” Theo asks, looking back at Liam. The way the blond boy frowns at the camp, at the ships, at the city worries him. Though it could just be because of the sun. He grins to himself and puts his hand against Liam’s forehead, shielding his clear eyes. Liam casts him a surprised, confused look, then smiles, understanding.

“Thanks. Sucks they don’t have sunglasses here!” he jokes.

Theo snorts out a chuckle through his nose: “Are you sure? Where are we?”

Liam takes a step back, only because the waves make him stumble. Theo reaches out with a hand to steady him. He lets go right after. Liam looks at him, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Oh man… Don’t make me say it out loud before I am sure. If I’m right… This is like… I don’t know” he shakes his head.

Theo doesn’t pressure him any further, but he’s curious. He shrugs and sighs: “Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed this didn’t turn out to be a Star Wars sort of alternative reality”

Liam chuckles: “You’re into space?”

Theo shrugs, not offering more than that. Liam shakes his head and smiles: “Look, if I’m right… you’ll like this. I promise”

Theo rolls his eyes: “Whatever”

He turns to the pile of clothes. He assumes those belong to both him and Liam. He picks them up, and proceeds to inspect them. Perplexed, he turns to Liam, showing them.

“Any idea why we would be wearing dresses?” he asks.

Liam snorts and picks one of the two garments from his hands: “They’re tunics, idiot. And this only confirms my theory. But it’s not enough”

“Can I at least know what your theory is?” Theo asks, surreptitiously studying how Liam is putting his dress, or tunic, on. He just steps into it and slides it on. Theo mimics him. The fabric dampens against his back, but Theo suspects it’s more because of the way he’s sweating under the sun rather than the water.

Liam starts walking towards the ships, Theo falling into step with him. The blue eyes don’t leave the ships not even for a second. Theo notices they don’t seem to be giving the city much importance – which, in Theo’s opinion, is just wrong: the city has more chances to offer shelter, or to represent danger. Although it is true that they’re closer to the ships and the camp there…

“It’s a long way, Liam” Theo points out, gesturing to the ships: “won’t you tell me at least something I can use? Maybe I can help to say if your thought is a good one”

“How much do you know about Greek history?” Liam asks, his eyes never leaving the ships.

Theo rolls his eyes and groans: “Wait, is this something like Mykonos?” he asks.

Liam snorts, throwing an amused glance his way: “Theo, if I’m right, this is ten thousand bigger and better than any siege Mykonos might have ever experienced”

Theo pulls his lips in a thin line: “That’s not really what I meant with telling me something. Details, Liam. Come on”

Liam stops, looking up at Theo. His hand closes around Theo’s wrist, his eyes gleaming: “… I think we are in the Iliad” he half whispers.

He looks at Theo expectantly, which is enough for Theo to know that this, in Liam’s nerdy perspective, must be cool. He remembers the name, although he is not familiar with the story behind, certainly not as Liam must be.

“Uh… I assume you don’t mean the movie with Brad Pitt” he says, half joking (only half, because, well, you never know, ok?).

Liam rolls his eyes and chuckles: “No, I think it’s the real thing. But I could be wrong, it could be any other siege of the Greeks to any other city. I mean, those are obviously Greek ships, and that’s a huge city… and this is a very, very big thing for a siege” Liam amends, his voice going thinner and filling with awe.

Theo looks at him, the way his eyes gleam, looking at the ships, the camp, the city. At the solid wall of dust, from which the noise of clashing metals and screams is coming more and more distinct.

“Mmmm” is all Theo comments, shifting his eyes to the camp, the city, and what is obviously a battlefield: “look at that camp. Looks like this siege hasn’t started yesterday” he points out.

Liam’s eyes dart on his face. There is an almost frenzied look in his eyes. Theo smiles. What an adorable nerd.

“Let’s see if you’re right, uh?” he suggests, and resumes walking towards the camp and the ships, Liam a silent presence beside him.

The closer they get to the ships, the tenser Liam grows. His shoulders and back are so stiff Theo can feel it from his place, which admittedly isn’t much farther from Liam's. They must be walking with barely an arm distance between them, sometimes less, the occasional step that sends them stumbling one close to the other. Theo understands the reason for Liam’s tension, and shares the feeling, partially, although he’s more busy taking in as many details possible.

Yes, that’s a battlefield. Yes, those are whinnying horses, and this is their smell, tangled with the salty scent of the sea, mixed with the murky smell of stagnant water close to the ships, of tar and wood, of fires burning, meat cooking, of flesh being torn and gutted – of screams coming from the battlefield, bones breaking, bodies coming apart.

The wall of dust is the battlefield, and this is the camp of one of the two parties involved. He hopes with all his might that it is to this part they (their character? The character they play, that they are progressively becoming, fusing into) belong to.

They start to distinguish people, all wearing the same dress Liam insisted it’s called tunic, some even keeping the top part rolled down on their hips. The clang of metal doesn’t come from battle now, rather from the smithy, far from the ships. There are many of them, actually, full of people coming and going. The camp consists of many tents, some fortified with wooden structures, corrals full of horses, chariots nearby. Some tents definitely look better than others. Women dressed in longer tunics come and go, moving freely around.

“It looks like the people here aren’t too bothered by the battlefield over there, uh” Theo whispers, stopping a bit far from the first tents.

Liam doesn’t reply, his eyes taking in the scene. His hand goes back to Theo’s wrist, fingers closing around it, and Theo lets him. He takes a step closer to him, bumping their shoulders together, eyes still fixed on the camp in front of them. Some of the working people notice them, and immediately lowers their eyes, going back to their work, not showing they have ever looked away from it. The women let their gaze linger more, but eventually divert it as well. Some men smile, ruefully, some with more decision.

Theo takes it as a good sign.

“Ah! My princes! You’re back!” a boy who can’t be older than them approaches. A lean body that nonetheless looks tempered for battle, with a clear tunic covered in sweat. His dark hair is damp with sweat, too, and that’s when Theo registers, among the scents he’s analyzing since coming close to the camp, the strong smell of body odor, sweat in particular.

Theo readies for the worst, face expressionless but not hostile, although the word ‘princes’ bodes well.

Liam smiles to the boy, his shoulders relaxing, as in sudden recognition: “Automedon!” he exclaims, but he doesn’t add anything. The boy beams back, looking at Liam expectantly, but Liam has turned to Theo, pinning him with a shocked expression, eyes wide and mouth gaping open.

Theo closes it with a finger pushing Liam’s chin up, and then turns back to the oblivious boy in front of them – Automedon: “Don’t mind him. He’s drunk too much seawater. Next thing he’ll tell you is that he’s forgotten where he’s supposed to go”

Liam presses his teeth together and nods at Theo, silently praising the sneaky way to know where, in fact, they’re supposed to head.

“Then I shouldn’t be afraid, prince Patroclus, because even so you would still know, wouldn’t you?” the boy deadpans, grinning at Theo (Patroclus…?) in a way that cause fondness to bloom in his chest. As if he was used to joke with this boy.

He definitely knows him. Or, well, his character does. He doesn’t know what Patroclus means, but the name sounds familiar. To a part of his brain it sounds even more familiar than Theo.

‘It must be who I am in here’ he considers, and stretches his lips in a thin but warm smile. He doesn’t need to reply, though, because Liam attracts both their attention, the strangled sound he makes and the way he’s back to gaping, wide-eyed, finger pointed at Theo.

“He called you Patroclus!” he whispers.

Theo snorts, grinning at the boy and shaking his head, as if to prove his previous point. He hugs Liam with one arm and keeps him close to his chest, bending down to murmur in his ear, “What the fuck are you doing. What is wrong with you?”

Liam places the palm of his hand on Theo’s pecs, and it burns, even over the soft fabric of the tunic. Theo (Patroclus, now?) feels his body almost ready to shiver under that touch, but manages to get hold on his reactions.

“You’re Patroclus! Oh my god” he whispers, excited. He pushes away from Theo and looks at the boy with a frenzied expression. The boy, Automedon, frowns, worried, maybe even scared. Theo sneaks an arm again over Liam’s shoulders, keeping him from stepping closer to the boy and scaring him any further.

“Automedon, say my name” he commands.

Theo wants to slaps his hand on his face, and possibly use it to slap Liam’s head, too. The boy frowns, looking up at Theo, in search of any hints about what to do. Theo shrugs and smiles, dragging Liam back against his side and mouthing ‘indulge him’ to the boy.

Automedon shrugs as well, makes an amused face and looks at Liam, playing along: “Prince Achilles?” he says, slightly hesitating.

Liam screams. He jumps at Theo’s side, clasping his hand over Theo’s shoulder. Theo grabs him by the hips and drags him back against him, keeping him from jumping around screaming like a madman, and even pushes his face down, keeping it hidden against his chest. Liam’s arms encircle him and hug him fiercely, and Theo hugs him back: one harm resting on Liam’s hips, the other on the back of his head.

Automedon looks at Theo with a raised eyebrow, now openly worried.

“Is he okay?” he asks, hesitant.

Theo nods and makes a dismissive gesture half-raising the hand he has on Liam’s hair: “Too much sun, ignore him. Actually, I think the sun has done something to my head, too. I really don’t remember where I’m supposed to go”

The boy looks convinced, mutters something about the unhealthy sun of Troy. He points them the way, and Theo rapidly moves to follow that direction. Liam is still clasped against Theo’s chest, silent, his shoulders shaking slightly. There’s now a telltale dampness on the front of Theo’s chest that he doesn’t think it’s sweat, or saliva. Liam is crying.

He enters the rich looking tent and seats Liam on a bed. The blankets are a pile of animal hides, but their fur is soft, he almost loses himself looking at the way his fingers card through it.

‘This fur almost feels like mine’ he thinks, slightly horrified.

He looks up and meets Liam's eyes. He’s kneeling between Liam’s legs, Liam hunched over, his elbows on his knees. Theo was right: his eyes are red, and he’s just stopped crying.

“Were you right?” he asks, in a soft voice.

Liam nods. He takes a big breath and nods again, wiping at his face.

“Yes. I’m right. It’s the Iliad”

Theo nods along. He doesn’t know much of the Iliad, and that might be a problem.

“Ok. How well do you know it? Do you think you could follow the plot?” he asks.

Liam snorts: “I definitely know it. I don’t know if I could follow it, though. Not being this character”

Theo frowns: “You mean… Achilles? Wait, is it, are you, like, Achilles Achilles? Strongest warrior, dies because of something with his talon?”

Liam rolls his eyes, but then nods: “Yes, that Achilles”

Theo is slightly stricken for a moment: “Wow” he comments. He hasn’t seen the movie, like, ever, but he remembers the actor playing it was Brad Pitt. He eyes Liam in a belittling, skeptical way and snorts.

“You don’t look much like Brad Pitt to me” he comments.

Liam snorts but can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. He sighs, looking at the inside of the tent and then right through the still open door, staring far in the distance. His expression sobers up, his jaw clenching again, and he shakes his head.

“Shit” he swears, softly.

Not really knowing why, Theo bends forward, taking Liam’s hand in his: “What’s wrong? Can’t you play along this part?” he asks.

Liam holds his gaze for a few long seconds, then shrugs again: “I’m not particularly fond of what I will have to do. But yes, I know the plot, and I know how long we have to play” he answers.

Theo nods: “Okay. That’s good. So, how long do we have to play?” he asks, both because he wants Liam to talk and because he needs to know.

Liam grimaces: “Until we die”

Silence.

Theo bites the inside of his cheek: “Well… I should have probably expected that. Are you sure?” he asks. He’s not exactly fond of the idea of dying, again. He’s not really fond of the idea of Liam dying, either. He realizes that this isn’t just him not wanting Liam to die – this is also Patroclus, the guy he’s turning into, not wanting Achilles to die.

‘Shit. What kind of fucking nightmare have I walked into?’

Liam nods and sighs again. He stands, Theo giving him space to walk over his kneeling body. Liam moves around the tent, touching stuff, moving things, looking perfectly at ease. At home.

Is he still Liam, or is he becoming Achilles, too?

He stops about in the middle of the tent, but gravitates towards Theo as he speaks: “Achilles dies at the end of the war, when the city of Troy falls. So I’m going to have to go through the entire shit. Believe me, you have it easier” he says, shaking his head.

Theo sits on the bed, folding his hands in the space between his legs and leaning forward: “Explain”

Liam does. He tells him about the Greeks trying to conquer Troy because Paris, a Trojan prince, kidnapped or stole Menelaus’ wife from him.

“So, Menelaus is the scorned husband? And leads a war against the guy who steals his wife?” Theo echoes.

Liam shakes his head: “First of all, Paris bringing Helen with him to Troy is bad because yes, he’s stealing someone else’s wife. And the Greeks weren’t particularly open minded when it comes to gender equality”

Theo snorts, agreeing.

Liam continues, explaining Paris has also broken the rules of hospitality, that are sacred for both Greeks and Trojans. He explains that, soon or later, the sphere of influence of Agamemnon’s power would have clashed against the one of the king of Troy.

Theo is about to ask if it’s Paris, but doesn’t, at the last second. A voice, his new memory tells him it’s someone else.

“King Priam” he says, instead, and Liam nods.

Liam goes on, explaining how Menelaus went to his brother Agamemnon, who put together an army of Greeks kings and led them as their chief commander.

“So he’s like, the king of the kings” Theo muses.

Liam nods. He tells him of Achilles’ and Agamemnon’s fight, Agamemnon stealing Briseis from Achilles. He explains that’s why Achilles, angry, stopped fighting for Agamemnon. Theo snorts, smiling lopsidedly from under his fringe: “Looks like these guys took every chance their women gave them to lead a war”

Liam snorts, but partially agrees: “It’s not a war. Agamemnon insulted Achilles by taking away his spoils of war, which, in this case, were his slave. But the problem isn’t her. The problem is that Agamemnon refused to recognize Achilles’ honor. He hurt Achilles’ pride, and therefore pissed him off”

“Because Achilles was the strongest warrior on the Greek side and doing most of the work?” Theo guesses, nodding along. He doesn’t like how Patroclus’ memories are catching up and mixing with his own, but he can see that this is damn useful. He snorts and shakes his head: “I can see why she picked Achilles for you, angry Little Beta that you are”

Liam glares at him, looks down, then looks back up, with a bright smile and the most gushing expression Theo’s ever seen: “Yes, but… I’m Achilles. Theo, I am Achilles!”

“Stop your fangirling shit. You almost gave us away before, with the boy… Automedon”

Liam laughs: “You can’t tell me not to gloat! I mean, I am Achilles, and you… you are just Patroclus” he says, and hastily stops, his face falling, looking at Theo with panic in his eyes. He proceeds to blush copiously. And Theo raises his eyebrow: whatever it is making Liam blush, he needs to know.

“What? What is it? Is this guy such a wimp compared to the one you got?”

Liam, still blushing madly, clears his throat: “On the contrary, he was a good warrior. And generally well loved by the rest of the Greek commanders. He’s just… well. It’s difficult to explain. It’s a controversial thing, ok?”

Theo, silent, holds Liam’s stare. The way Liam fidgets in his place, blushing. The way Patroclus wants to be as close as possible to Achilles. The way the physical contact feels natural, just even. The way Theo wants to protect Liam, which is tangling together with the deeper, rawer need Patroclus feel to keep Achilles safe, warm, happy.

Theo nods.

‘So it is like this, then’ he tells himself.

“Are they fucking?” he asks, brutally.

Liam sputters: “What! Well. I mean. No? I don’t know. It’s not clear!” he tries to answer.

Theo nods along it, but doesn’t give up: “Liam. Will people assume that we are fucking?” he asks again.

Liam stops breathing, looking at Theo with his face redder than fire. Then he exhales all in a sudden and nods sheepishly: “Yes, they will. Probably. Patroclus is Achilles' squire, but he’s basically his role model” he explains.

Theo nods, his eyes unfocused. Patroclus memories run wild in his mind.

‘To say that I am your model is to put it mildly’, Patroclus thinks, and Theo agrees. Patroclus is Achilles’ best friend, his mentor, his companion. He’s the only one who listens to him and doesn’t treat him like a freak because he’s a strong motherfucker, and half a god. He nods again, suddenly feeling like strangling the witch for her horrible sense of humor.

It was fine, picking the IED blond werewolf to play Achilles… he just doesn’t understand why Theo had to play the guy who’s supposed to look after him, and who’s also his lover.

“So, I’m your babysitter, in this world, too” Theo concludes, looking up at Liam with a wolfish grin. Liam rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny. He sits close to Theo, both looking through the open door of the tent.

“We need to find the others. They could be everywhere” he says.

Theo agrees: “Yes. But first, explain to me the rules. What is the plot we have to follow? What should I expect?”

Liam tells him. Theo doesn’t like hearing it. Liam looks at him looking away. He asks him if he’s alright.

Theo stands, walking in front of him, unable to move too far from him. Is this Patroclus, wanting to stick close to Achilles, or himself, not wanting to leave Liam? This is getting confused, difficult to handle. His two identities are fusing together. He’s afraid he’ll disappear.

“I’m fine. I guess nobody likes knowing they’ll have to die” he answers, calm. His voice still has an edge that makes Liam frown.

“I’m sorry” Liam offers.

Theo shakes his head: “Don’t be. Tell me about you. How long will you have to play after I’m out?”

They decide to move to one of the ships to see the battlefield. Their memories have mixed enough with those of their characters that by now they know which ship belongs to Achilles’ Myrmidons. The mount it and look, shielding their eyes from the sun.

Liam points to the heroes they distinguish, murmuring some details that Theo would need, but Patroclus doesn’t. In the end, they just look, commenting in approval when their companions do something they like.

“That’s a cool move Diomedes just pulled” Theo points out.

Liam agrees: “Yes, and check out Odysseus”

“Look, we need to find where Malia is. I don’t think women are fighting. Do you?” Theo asks, turning to Liam.

He shakes his head: “No, women don’t fight. Only a small army of Amazons will, the last year of the war, but that’s still long from coming. She must be somewhere in the camp, Melissa too”

“They could be in the city” Theo points out.

Liam meets his eyes, silently, then nods: “Yeah, they could” he agrees, although he doesn’t like that perspective. Theo agrees.

“Which part do you think the witch is playing?” he asks.

Liam is silent, then he snorts lightly: “I think he’s my mother”

Theo frowns, confused, and Liam clarifies: “I think she’s playing Thetis, Achilles’ mother. At least, I saw her in Achilles’ memory, and she's identical to the witch”

Theo snorts: “Dude, that’s just… weird. She’s weird”

Liam nods along: “Yeah, she is”

“So, when do I die?” Theo asks, whipping his head towards Liam.

Liam sighs again: “Hector will kill you. See? He must be in that cloud of dust over there. Best warrior among the Trojans. When he kills you, I suppose you’ll wake up in the real world”

“We better ask the witch for confirmation” Theo mutters under his breath, looking the way Liam is pointing. He can’t distinguish the figure fighting like a lion, still wrapped up in the cloud of dust, but the rate Greeks soldiers fall dead close to him is impressive.

‘Talk about a killer’ he muses.

“Yeah. When Patroclus dies, Achilles loses it. He goes crazy, fights Hector, kills him. Basically, he flips the result of the war”

Theo nods: “So, I die, you kill him, and?”

Liam shrugs: “and I make peace with Agamemnon, win this war, and die as well”

Theo snorts. He turns back to the battlefield, squinting his eyes and crossing his hands on his chest: “Sounds amazing”

“You mean it sucks” Liam snorts out, smiling.

Theo laughs: “Well, I mean… I die, and pretty soon” he comments, striving for a light comment to downplay his own words. Liam frowns, his eyes going dark.

‘Yeah, I bet Achilles doesn’t like his dear Patroclus dying, either’ he thinks, bitterly.

He breathes for a long moment, then he shrugs: “Look, let’s play this game without wasting time brooding, uh? I mean, even if your broodings do play a big role in this story…”

Liam blushes and smacks him in the arm. Theo grins, then something in the battlefield attracts his attention. A gleaming of metal, attracting Liam’s eyes as well. The cloud of dust around Hector is dispersing, and they eagerly look, trying to see the might warrior, the best among the Trojan.

The one who will kill Patroclus and die at Achilles’ hands.

Liam pales. Theo’s lips set in a thin line, his jaw clenching.

‘This witch is a real… bitch’ he thinks.

The dust setting over him, sword bloody in one hand, Hector bends to pick up his spear with the other. He straightens up and for a brief, brief moment makes eye contact with them, two figures on the ship of the Myrmidons. The eyes holding gaze with Theo and Liam belong to Mason.

“We need to talk with the witch” Theo murmurs, voice soft close to Liam’s ear: “We need to find Malia and Melissa”

Liam startles, his frantic eyes finding Theo’s immediately. He clutches Theo’s arm in his hand, Theo sliding it so that he’s holding that hand with his own, fingers intertwined. He looks back into Liam’s scared eyes, trying to transmit calm and strength.

“Theo” Liam whispers, his voice broken: “I have to kill Mason”

His eyes fill up with tears. Theo doesn’t know if this is Patroclus, unable to face Achilles’ tears, of it’s him, unable to face Liam’s pain. He sneaks his arms around his torso and brings him close, Liam’s forehead resting against his chest. He kisses the blond hair, because Patroclus wants him to. Liam either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t mind. 

‘He’s probably too distracted by the news he’s going to kill Mason’s alter ego to notice’ Theo thinks.

Liam still cradled against his front, Theo looks at the battlefield. Hector (Mason) is leaving, walking back towards the opening doors of the city. Many men set out from the city and the camp, to retrieve the injured and, mostly, the dead. Theo follows them without any real attention.

He’s going to die at the hand of Mason. That is a sort of poetic justice, isn’t it? He has picked Mason to be the host of the beast, once. It’s his fault Mason turned into a monster. And here, Mason is a mighty warrior, a prince heir to the throne of a rich city, defending his family, his people. And he will kill Theo.

His gaze moves up, along the high walls of Troy. An old man wearing golden jewels, gleaming under the sunrays, leaves, presumably Priam running to meet his eldest son. A woman, long dark hair and a golden crown, hesitates, almost locks eyes with Theo.

Patroclus tells him, that’s queen Hecuba. Theo nods.

‘Maybe to you that's Hecuba, buddy, but to me, she’s Melissa McCall’

“Liam” he whispers, carding fingers in the blond hair: “I found Melissa” he tries to distract him.

Liam pushes slightly away from Theo’s chest, the palms of his hands hot against the fabric of his tunic. He looks confused up into Theo’s green eyes. Theo points to the walls, but the long-haired figure is gone.

“She’s queen Hecuba” he explains to Liam's inquiring expression. That expression turns sour, filling again with pain. Theo understands why. Getting to her, talking to her and making sure that she recognizes them is going to be extremely difficult. Liam shakes his head and sighs.

“Oh man… at least tell me Malia is somewhere in the Greek camp” he pleas.

Theo shifts, looking at the women moving around the camp. He doesn’t see anyone looking like Malia, but it doesn’t mean anything.

“Well, I guess the only way to find out is walking through the camp. And we can see if we find the witch, too”

Liam frowns slightly: “I told you who she is” he argues.

Theo shrugs: “We need to find Malia, anyway. Looking for the witch too won’t be that difficult. What if you’re wrong?” he asks.

Liam holds his gaze, then nods, wiping again at his face: “Fine” he agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter. Theo might look a bit out of character, but this is the inevitable result of a crossover. 
> 
> Research for stories always kill me. Writing chapters always kill me. Literally. Why am I surprised I'm ready, then?
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this.


	4. This is all Greek to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo and Liam in the Greek camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely long chapter but Thiam moments + Achilles/Patroclus

From his distant point on the beach, the camp looked small, and yet Theo knew that logically it must have been big. Now that he’s actually inside it, he can see how that hypothesis was right. Achilles’ tent, the corral of his and Patroclus’ horses, their chariots, the tents of the rest of the Myrmidons, they aren’t placed in the middle of the Greek camp, but they aren’t at its farthest point either. It’s a privileged position, close to the center but still far enough to have some privacy, to keep out of the way of those still fighting in the war.

They walk the camp, starting to roam through the tents of the Myrmidons. They meet Automedon again, who darts a curious, inquisitive smile their way a couple of times but otherwise doesn’t approach them, seemingly busy with tending to the horses.

“Those are Achilles’ horses” Liam explains, tilting his head close to Theo’s ear and speaking sotto voce: “Balius and Xanthos. They were fathered by the west wind and impossibly fast. Automedon is the one driving the chariot they pull, but only Patroclus could control them”

“You should start talking of them as yourself and me. Stop calling me my name. People will notice you talk about Achilles as if he was someone else” Theo murmurs through his teeth, smiling with his eyes fixed on the corral of the horses.

The animals are two tall, fine exemplars. Theo isn’t an expert when it comes to horses, he can’t even ride one, but he knows Patroclus is a fine rider, and a good horseman. The pair of horses are eating, lazily nipping at some forage Automedon has some men giving them. They don’t pay the humans any attention, but their ears flick, their heads turning towards their owners. Theo feels pulled closer to them, and he follows what he can only assume is Patroclus’ will to be closer to the beasts.

He walks to the corral, the horses stomping their front hoofs and snorting hot air through their nose. Theo offers them each one of his hands. The spotted horse, the one Patroclus knows is Balius, licks at his knuckles and pushes the tip of his muzzle against it. The other horse, a bay, Xanthos, rolls his eyes and flicks his ears, but eventually does the same.

Theo grins, his hands travelling further up, his fingers gently caressing the long muzzles. Their skin is warm, though not as Liam’s (Achilles’, he amends to himself, he should start call himself and Liam as their Greek counterparts), their short hairs soft, their manes long and even softer. They moves closer to the corral, and so does Theo, bowing closer and closer until he’s resting his forehead against both their snouts. The horses don’t seem to be bothered by standing so close one to the other, rather finding contact between each other soothing, and they seem to appreciate the presence of Theo, Patroclus, as well.

He slides his hands under their muzzles, caressing their throats. Balius snorts softly, Xanthos licks at his skin, where the tunic ends and leaves the shoulder and arm exposed to the sun.

Theo smiles without realizing, takes a step back, looks up into the eyes of the animals. There, he could stay there all his life, tending to them. Having creatures so elegant and peculiar wanting only him close. The only human, the only mortal allowed to their company. Something in their eyes tell him that it is a great honor they pay him, allowing him to be the only one they allow to be groomed by.

He hopes he can live up to that honor, even if, from what he’s understood, his time in this reality won’t be long. Something in their divine eyes tell him that they know, just like they know he isn’t the old Patroclus they were used to, and yet they still allow him close. He nods to them, caresses their muzzle again, steps back. He turns, his arms falling back along his sides, and finds Liam smiling at him, with a sort of fond expression in the blue eyes.

“What?” Theo asks, frowning. He ignores how hard he must be blushing. Liam shakes his head and doesn’t press. They resume their walking, Liam still dropping comments when they see something worth mentioning – the pieces of armor he recognizes, the weapons, the food. He uses their Greek names now, and Patroclus' memory steps in, tipping Theo with more and more details, confirming Liam’s words.

“So, you’re a big shot in here” Theo comments, casually, after they’ve discussed the way a myrmidon warrior is tending to the cuirass cradled in his lap.

Liam shrugs: “I guess” he says with nonchalance.

Theo snorts, tilting his head and pinning the other boy with a pointed look. Liam blushes and shrugs again: “What. I mean, I’m half god. I am stronger than the average mortal” he tries to defend himself, lamely, and digs his grave even deeper. He blushes, conscious of how arrogant his words sound.

“I mean…”

“Just leave it, man” Theo saves him, shaking his head with a chuckle: “look. That’s one of the tents where women sleep, right?” he asks, pointing to a row of tents with no decorations and little protection. A soft sound of looms being worked reaches their ears. Some women of different age come and go from it, mainly in couples. Mostly, they leave and head towards another row of tents, these ones all white and with one side completely open.

They can see makeshift beds inside, a few women moving around them, and an old man, wearing only a tunic but moving like a warrior, going from wounded to wounded. The man, they know, is Machaon, the healer of the Achaean army, and he’s told to be the descendant of the god Asclepius. He’s a soldier, but mainly works tending to other warriors’ wounds. He’s currently busy with mortar and pestle, dumps the powder obtained in a small bowl a girl offers him. She stirs the compost obtained and they spread it together on the open wounds of a barely conscious man on the closest bed.

“Let’s leave” Theo whispers to Liam’s ear: “if you’re supposed not to be fighting to preserve your honor, I don’t think you’ll have many fans inside that tent”

Liam nods: “Although, it was pretty clear that Achilles – I mean, that I didn’t have any other choice” he insists, starting to walk away from the infirmary pavilion: “if I hadn’t told Agamemnon to go fuck himself, it would have been worse. Nobody would have taken me for serious anymore”

Theo snorts and casts him a look: “You don’t have to explain it to me, you know”

Liam shrugs, with an expression that begs to differ: “People know why I did it. My men know why I did it. It’s important that you know it, as well. Actually, you’re the first one I care to make sure that sees things as I do”

He stops, looking up at Theo from his slightly shorter height. His blue eyes are almost burning. Theo swallows under the gaze. He wonders if this is Achilles talking to Patroclus or Liam, pretending to be Achilles, explaining the situation to Theo.

‘This is getting complicated. I’m not sure I can handle days like this’ he considers, teeth grinding quietly. He nods and tilts his head to the side, silently suggesting they move further along. Liam nods and follows him. They don’t talk for the next few minutes, and Theo feels his hands restless against his sides, his fingers twitching. Liam is a wall of nervousness, he can feel it irradiating from him.

Thank god they are saved by a delicious smell reaching their noses – their heads tilt to the side simultaneously, following the direction it comes from. They share a look and grin.

“Food tents?” Theo asks, half a suggestion, half an open question. Liam nods, confirming and taking him up on the suggestion. They follow the good smell, sniffing the air without caring to hide it. The good smell of dough being baked mixes with others, meat being butchered and prepared for cooking.

“You know, I don’t think Theo has ever eaten lamb” Theo mentions. After he’s spoken he wonders briefly, if he’s thinking and talking as Patroclus or Theo. Whatever. If he’s bound to mould into the guy, he’s better start making peace with the fact that sometimes he will think of himself as this new person.

Liam makes a surprised sound: “No way! You don’t know what you’re missing”

Theo casts a curious glance his way: “Why, has Liam?” he asks.

Liam nods, then makes a face and smirks: “But it’s mainly the opinion of my half divine self” he replies, joking with the wording. Theo grins at that and doesn’t comment. Right then, one of the men working at the meat notices them. He’s wearing a torn tunic and his hair is wild on his back, kept together by a string, but even so some strands have fallen on his face and eyes.

The man smiles timidly at them, and they nod, leaving quickly after that.

“Princes!” a voice calls.

They stop and turn. A man is coming their way, carrying a bloodied, long spear in one hand. He passes a second, broken one and his big rounded shield to one of his guards. He limps slightly and uses the bloodied, intact spear to help himself walking their way. The man has long, curly hair that reaches down half his back, wears a cuirass decorated with gold and red motifs, and a heavy helmet whose string, under his chin, he is trying to loosen. He tosses it to another of his men, who catches it swiftly. The guards leave, walking in direction of a corral and a set of tents. The man, instead, keeps limping their way.

He smiles bitterly, looking particularly at Liam with an awkward expression.

“Menelaus” Patroclus greets him, while updating Theo on who this man is.

The scorned husband, king Menelaus of Sparta, younger brother of high king Agamemnon. The man who asked his brother help to avenge his honor. A mighty warrior, a good friend. A man who still loves his wife, even after losing her, and after spending years fighting those she now lives with. A man who every times will tell you that she’s dead to him and he’ll conquer Troy just to slaughter her, too, but the look in his eyes as he says it tells you how untrue that is.

“King Menelaus” Achilles echoes, his jaw setting and his mouth thinning into a line – Theo has no doubt that he’s ninety percent Achilles right now, Liam only a spectator.

The king stops in front of them, barely a meter apart. He reeks of blood, sweats and body fluids, as well as exhaustion, embarrassment, physical pain. Theo darts his eyes around, using chimera senses to try and detect the damage.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, genuinely caring to know. He takes the spear from the man’s hand and passes it to Liam, bending down to remove the greave that protects the man’s leg. He loosens the strings and removes it, wincing when he sees the blood running freely from a cut on his shin. The man indulges him, raising the foot, however looking down at Patroclus with a confused, amused and curious expression.

“This is just a small tear” he answers, looking at Patroclus in a way that is meant to reassure him, silently asking him what is he doing.

Theo looks back at the wound, and can see signs of infection already taking over. He hums loudly and gestures Liam to come closer. The blond boy does, offering the spear back to Menelaus so that he can use it to stand while they both kneel at his feet, and he keeps the raised one up.

Liam isn’t much expert when it comes to wounds, but Achilles is. Theo is sure something similar to what he’s experimented before with Balius and Xanthos happens now to Liam, Achilles’ memory helping Liam determining the situation. He hums as well, throwing a frowning glance Theo’s way, then looking up to Menelaus.

“You might want to have this looked, instead. Infection is already taking over. How long ago were you injured?” he asks.

“It is nothing more than a small cut” the man insists: “I assure you both, I will be fine”

Liam stands, looking entirely the half divine prince his new self is. He holds Menelaus’ gaze to the point it's almost a glare: “It is not. Do not diminish the extent of wounds that could cost you. A wise warrior is one who looks after himself, when he’s injured”

Theo, or rather, Patroclus, still crouched at Menelaus’ feet, grins, pride blooming in his chest. Look at him, look, his young friend, how many times has he drilled those words into him? And finally he’s telling them to other people. He feels so proud.

‘Now, if only he would put them into practice for himself…’ he muses, grinning. He straightens back up. Menelaus is blushing slightly, now frowning at the young blond boy, not appreciating the tone he’s spoken with. Theo notices.

“He just misses fighting himself” he comments lightly, handing the greave back to Menelaus.

It proves a good move. The man, reminded of the reason why Achilles is not fighting at the moment, smiles ruefully at Patroclus, his eyes darting to Achilles but not meeting his gaze. He takes the greave he’s handed and nods, looking down.

Then he finally meets Achilles’ eyes, his lips a thin line: “I’m sorry about that. I thank you for your help. We all know we won’t win this war without you. My brother was… out of line. But, between your honor and my brother’s… I had to pick a side”

Liam nods, raising his open palms: “You still have a friend in me, Menelaus” he assures, a small smile opening on his face: “I understand”

“I want you to know that Agamemnon hasn’t touched the girl. He is not without honor, I assure you”

Theo quirks an eyebrow: “Briseis? Where is she now?” he asks.

Liam mentioned that, when Patroclus dies, Achilles is given Briseis back. So, once Theo is out of the game, this Briseis girl will be the main companion Liam, as Achilles will rely on. He doesn’t know if this is Patroclus or his old self, but Theo feels the urgency to check on this girl, to make sure that she passes his approval.

Menelaus points in direction of the tents where women are waving, where the sounds of the loom was and still is coming from. They thank him quickly and walk in that direction, but make sure to stop along the way, to give a look at the cattle, to some of the corrals they find along the way, to check the warriors and guards sitting in the scarce shadows.

“Don’t make it obvious that we’re looking for her” Liam suggests, whispering to Theo and pushing up briefly on this tip of his toes, reaching his ear: “I… I don’t think it’d be good”

Theo snorts: “You mean you don’t want them to think you care about her enough to sneak and check on her” he corrects him, amused.

Liam rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother arguing with the obvious, which Theo appreciates, but also regrets. What is life if he can’t tease Liam? Patroclus seems to agree, by the way, which is a good thing: if Theo is moulding into him, at least it’s nice knowing the guy is smart and they share the same view on the good things in life.

The row of tents where the women sleep and work is close to the last tents of the Myrmidons, which is great, because they can pretend to head back to their side of the camp. They stop halfway between the first tents where the stomping noise of the looms is coming from and the tents of the myrmidons. Theo grabs Liam by the elbow, jerking his chin up, hinting at the tents. Liam turns and looks.

Two young women are leaving the tent, one hesitating on the threshold, the other half hidden under a big load of fabric freshly woven. The one on the door of the tent is younger, has golden brown hair that fall wavy on her shoulders and back, sharp features and deep, dark eyes. She’s wearing a long, white tunic, the front pinned up to her knees so that she can walk with more ease.

Liam startles and his breath catches. Theo’s hand darts to cover his mouth, dragging him close to his chest and making sure that he doesn’t make any alarming noise, attracting attention. Liam turns frantic eyes to him, and Theo, calm, jaw set, nods.

“Yes, I know” he murmurs, eyes going back to the girl. She’s joined her companion now, and is helping her carrying most of the load. The other woman, they can see her better now, is slightly older, red in the face, and obviously pregnant, judging from her enlarged belly.

Liam, eyes set on the women leaving, hisses urgently to Theo’s ear, pressing against his front and standing on the tips of his toes: “Theo, it’s Malia!”

“Yes, Liam, I just said I know” Theo murmurs, absentmindedly slipping a hand on Liam’s shoulder and rubbing soothing circles on his back. They watch the women disappear in the crowd, silently. Theo stops caressing Liam, looks down and meets his eyes. They hold gaze for a few moments, then Liam nods, takes a step back. He’s blushing slightly and Theo wonders if he's aware of that. He’s sure this is all Liam blushing: Achilles wouldn’t mind close contact with his lifelong friend.

“We need to find my mother. I mean, the witch. We need to ask her if what we think is right”

Theo nods: “Where do you think she is?” he asks.

Liam hums, making a face: “Well, the sea, I guess. She’s a sea nymph. So…”

“We could go back to the beach” Theo suggests: “the place where we woke up?”

Liam nods: “Yeah, sounds like a good place to start looking for her” he agrees.

They walk all the way back. They cross the camp of the myrmidons. Automedon smiles their way again when he notices them. He looks curious, as if he wanted to ask them where they are going, but he doesn’t dare. Theo consider telling him, but in the end doesn’t, and they leave the camp without uttering a word. They reach the point on the shore where they have woken up only a few hours before. There’s nobody in sight, nobody for miles.

Liam shields his eyes with his hand, looking at the sea, while Theo does the same, but rather looks along the shore. It turns out that Liam was the one looking in the right place.

The silvery sound of a feminine chuckle startles them, and they turn towards its source. A young woman stands in the sea, only a few meters from them, with the water up to her knees spreading the bottom of her black dress and flattening it on her tights. The woman looks younger than they’ve learned she is, has long, wavy hair spilling down her back, curled by the salty air of the sea. She's wearing golden rings and bracelets, and a sort of small tiara in her hair.

“It’s good to see you, boys! Have you already guessed what this place is? My my, aren’t you quick!” she laughs.

Her eyes are dark and cold, a sharp contrast with her beautiful, warm smile. It gives Theo the creeps, and he’s concerned at the way her infectious smile tempts him, makes him want to trust her. The darkness and cold in her eyes remind him of her true nature.

Liam scowls at her: “You’ve brought us in the Iliad” he guesses: “right after the fight between Agamemnon and Achilles over Briseis. The plague is gone, at least, so, thank you for not dropping us in the middle of that” he adds, smiling with heavy sarcasm.

“You’re welcome!” she replies, smiling brightly.

Theo snorts, points at himself and then at Liam: “So, I’m Patroclus, he’s Achilles, and we’ve got questions for you”

She looks at him with an impressed, amused smiles: “Why, yes, you are! What are your questions?” 

Her fingers play with one of her many golden bracelets, reflecting the light of the sun. She has to shift to keep looking at both of them, so Theo walks closer to Liam, not even sure why he’s paying her this courtesy. She seems to notice though, and smiles at him, the same infectious, warm smile, that still doesn’t reach her eyes, not completely.

“First question” Liam starts, raising a hand and pushing down four fingers but the index: “what happens if we die here? No, better. We have to play until we die, correct? Us dying is the end of the game” he asks.

The witch nods. Liam echoes the movement and raises a second finger, his middle one.

“What happens when we die here?”

The witch tilts her head, smiling more openly and more condescendingly. Theo doesn’t need to hear it from her, guesses that she doesn’t want to tell them anything, just confirm what they think.

“When we die here, we wake up in the real world, correct?” he clarifies.

The witch smiles brighter at him, her face screwed up by the expression, showing teeth. She really is beautiful. The cold and dark in her eyes is still there, though, despite that smile, despite the sun.

“Yes, correct”

“And what if Mason and the others die? If our friends die, they will simply go on sleeping, until we finish the game, correct?” Liam asks, raising his ring finger.

The witch nods: “Yes, they will die in this world, and keep sleeping in the other. If you succeed, then they will wake up”

“So,” Liam continues, slightly uncomfortable: “when I die, they will all wake up. Mason, Malia, Melissa, and Theo too, right?”

The witch nods: “Yes, they will. If you play till your part is over”

“I will” Liam replies, sure. His voice doesn’t tremble, his heartbeat doesn’t waver, but Theo can feel his nervousness. He’s afraid he won’t make it, he’s afraid that his friends will die because of him.

‘Well… maybe you’re included in the number’ he amends to himself. Or maybe it’s Patroclus, he doesn’t know. Regardless. And regardless if Liam does or not.

He clears his throat, attracting the witch’s attention: “What about time? Have we already lost half a day already? We have to play our parts for a long time before I die, let alone before Liam does. I assume time here runs in a different way than back home. Is that right?”

Liam mutters something like him being right. The witch nods.

“Yes, you don’t have to worry about that”

“How about a measure – when I die, more or less, will it be halfway through those three days? Can you tell us?” Theo insists.

The witch smiles, amused: “I shouldn’t, but I like you two. It’s the first time someone guesses so fast, and I think you’ll be lots of fun. So I’ll make an exception. Yes, when you die, Liam will have to stay here and keep on playing for long. But in the other world, it will be another day and a half”

Theo nods. Good. And bad, too. She just confirmed that Liam is going to have to spend most of the time here without Theo to help him. He needs to wake Malia up from the spell, make her remember, so she can help Liam going through… what he needs to.

“I have another question” Liam pipes up. The witch looks at him, patiently. Theo turns and looks down at him, has to bed more than usual because he remained higher on the shore.

“Ask” the witch prompts him.

“I want to know how you picked the characters” he demands.

The witch smiles, Theo winces.

“That’s not a question” she points out.

“No, but it still gives you a hell of a chance to gloat, so” Liam replies.

Theo smirks, impressed at the smart reply.

The witch laughs: “Oh, I knew I chose well with you! Oh Liam, that’s something you’ll find out. You’re smart… both of you” she adds, winking at Theo.

The witch disappeared shortly after that, and there was little more they could do but to head back to the Greek camp. Liam, reeking of frustration for his unanswered question, hesitated, stood on his spot, with the waves eating the sand from under his feet and breaking gently, repeatedly against his shins, surrounding him with white foam.

Really, Theo is absolutely sure neither Patroclus nor anyone else could blame him for what he did – Patroclus would have totally pushed Achilles in the water, too. Landing on his ass and emitting an indignant spurt, Liam tried to reach Theo, calling him all sort of names, but by then Theo was already running along the beach, laughing merrily and full of satisfied glee. Liam chased after him and finally caught him, tackling and sending the both of them down in the water, where the waves were higher.

Spitting salty water out of his mouth and wiping at his eyes, Theo and Liam played in the sea – an activity totally unfamiliar for Theo, not so much for Patroclus.

Their tunics drenched, hair plastered against their heads, they retreated from the water and moved back to the beach to dry out. With clothes and hair only relatively damp, they started their way back to camp. They talked more during their walk, mainly Liam explaining the plot of the poem to Theo, before and after Patroclus’ death.

Theo snorts at the part where Liam tells of the time Achilles, enraged with the death of his beloved, kills a thousand Trojans warriors, whose bodies clog the waterflow of the river, therefore pissing the god of the river off. Achilles, instead of cooling down and calling it a day, heading back to his tent to cry a different type of river over his beloved’s dead body, challenges the angry god of the river, who proceeds to flood the plain.

Theo can’t help it – he knows Achilles will be torn by pain and regret the moment he will effectively do so, and so will Liam, but the image is just too absurd, he starts laughing and can’t stop, so much that he has to stop, folded in two, his hands pressing at his shaking abs, tears in his eyes. He collapses on the sand, bent on one knee, and there tries to stop laughing, to regain control over his breathing.

When he looks back up and meets Liam offended eyes, when he notices Liam’s absolutely childish expression of disbelief at Theo’s reaction, the obvious ‘how can you laugh at this’ that Liam’s thundering eyes are sending his way – Theo has to struggle considerably, to smother another fit of laughter just as strong as the previous one.

Still shaking with the last of that fit and looking up with watery eyes, he blinks at Liam, smiling incredulous: “You challenged a fucking river? And you had him chase you all over the fucking plain?”

Liam blushes, now forced to admit the foolishness of the action. He still looks down at Theo, crosses his arms on his chest, holding on his resentment: “Okay, first, that’s something that will happen in the future, and second, the guy is devastated, okay? His best friend died” he protests, with the same expression of an angry bird ruffling its feathers.

‘You’re adorable’ Theo thinks, his smile widening.

“You mean his lover” he corrects, not resisting the chance to tease Liam even further. Predictably, Liam blushes more and rolls his eyes, pressing his arms against his front: “You don’t know that, I told you, it’s controversial!” he insists.

He is about as bright as a tomato. Theo grins wider, smirking deviously from his kneeling position: “Liam, I see the guy’s memory. There’s nothing controversial in there”

Liam blushes more and stutters a bit: “Yes, well, I have Achilles’ memories too, you know” he argues, actually doing little for his own cause – which he realizes promptly after, and blushes even more.

“Oh, man, you know what, leave it” he sighs exasperated, raising his hands in the air and resuming his walk towards the camp, only now looking more like a marching, pissed off elephant. Theo stumbles up to his feet and catches up easily.

“Come on, Liam, why are you mad about it?”

Liam doesn’t answer, grumbles something wordlessly, refusing to meet Theo’s eyes.

“I mean, is it the fact that you’re the one taking it up your ass that bothers you? I’m pretty sure my guy wouldn’t mind switching, you know”

Liam stops, gaping at Theo and pinning him with his typical, incredulous glare of ‘oh no, you didn’t’ .

“Okay, first, you don’t know that” he starts, index finger raised and using it to poke at Theo’s chest.

Theo smirks and shrugs: “Actually, I do, I do know that”

Liam blushes and blinks to keep his embarrassment from taking over, which doesn’t do much to keep the red spreading on his cheeks though: “Well, yes, I mean, I know it as well okay? So don’t act like you’re the top one in this relationship, because these two are obviously switching”

He resumes his stomping march, nose in the air with an offended expression that Theo finds so amusing it borders on delighting. He catches up easily with him and insists, not able to let go of the chance to tease the blond boy: “Yes, but, you as Liam, are you ready to make out with me? Because, it would look suspicious if we didn’t. I mean, I know they weren’t too blatant with the PDA but they have kissed in front of a small public. We might have to do the same. Will you kiss me, Liam?”

Liam stops, Theo copying him: “Are you that happy at the idea of kissing me, Theo?” he asks, a sparkle in his blue eyes and his tone challenging.

Theo shrugs. He refuses to turn that question to his own, old self. He doesn’t really need to know the answer. It wouldn’t be the first time he has to kiss someone for scene, for cover.

He doesn’t need to dwell on the fact he might (might!) be kind of sorta looking forward to it.

So he smiles charmingly and beats his lashes: “I would never put the lives of your friends in danger by refusing to playing my part till its deepest extents” he replies.

“Ohh” Liam exclaims sarcastic: “and would you be so ready to sacrifice yourself to that extent?”

Theo shrugs again: “I mean, my life is at stake too, so, yeah. Why not. I could totally kiss you to save my life”

‘Okay, that didn’t sound as good as planned’

Liam smirks, looking smugger by the minute: “Really” he drawls the word out: “aren’t you good at this sacrificing shit now”

Theo shrugs again, if only to cover the way the comment feels like a stab too close to his (stolen) heart. He puts on a ironic smile and nods: “I would totally kiss you for the sake of the greater good”

Liam snorts and shakes his head. He doesn’t reply, going back to walk, now at a more normal pace. Theo sides along him and bumps him with his shoulder.

“But Liam, come on, if you like it you can tell me. I can’t promise I would be as good to you as Patroclus would be to Achilles – I mean, I’m sorry, but I haven’t that much experience with guys, you should have taken Corey, but I want you to know that I’ll do my best not to disappoint”

Liam stops and gapes at him, wide-eyed and definitely blushing now. But, instead of frowning or glaring, he laughs now: “Oh my god, you’re incredible! Do you really care that much? What is it Theo, feeling performance pressure already?”

The hint now takes Theo by surprise, and he’s too late to stop the blush. He tries to cover it by shrugging again and plasters on a cheeky, almost lewd smile.

“I just don’t want to disappoint your expectations, darling. I know what Achilles wants, but what about you, Liam? Do you feel more like a top or a bottom?”

Liam snorts: “I’m a threat” he answers, and resumes his walking, nose in the air.

Theo snorts in incredulity: “Wha – that’s not an answer!” he insists.

Liam chuckles in satisfaction, Theo jogging to catch up.

“I know it isn’t. I just read it on tumblr once. Never thought I coulda use it!” he grins smugly.

Theo raises an eyebrow: “This only proves you’re a nerd”

Liam stops, looking at Theo with a raised eyebrow and a pointed look: “Theo, if I’m a nerd, then what are you, Mr. biology and space?”

Theo frowns: “That’s completely different” he sputters.

“Ah!” Liam exclaims, smirking in triumph: “I don’t think so! And anyway, stop asking. You’ll find out anyway”

He drops the comment while he’s already walking away, so Theo isn’t looking at his face when he says it. Maybe because of that, it takes Theo a few instants longer to process the meaning of those words.

“Wait. Liam! What do you mean!” he exclaims, catching him up. He closes his hand around Liam’s shoulder and forces him to stop, to look at him. Liam is smirking, but barely so, and Theo doesn’t feel like teasing or playing around anymore.

“Do you really want me to?” Theo asks.

He knows this is the farthest from his usually smooth self, but, his brain is fogging up with memories Patroclus is pouring into him, and well, the guy has picked a terrible moment to dump on Theo information like how smooth Achilles’ skin really is, how soft is hair, how delicious he looks with his eyes closed, back arched, Patroclus’ tongue lapping down his stomach.

He wants to know. He needs to know if Liam might be even remotely into it. Or, if not ‘it’, to something relatable. Theo’s heart hammers in his chest. His eyes, he bets, are going really dark now. He’s right: the green of the irises is disappearing under the enlarging pupils.

Liam, cheeks slightly red again, holds his gaze, blue rings thinner and thinner. His expression is serious, almost sensual, when he steps closer to Theo, leaving just a small distance between them, and whispers, his mouth moving so close to Theo’s: “I don’t know, Theo, why don’t you try to find out?”

Theo’s eyes are so fixed on those lips moving, he realizes it only at the last moment, catching back the blue eyes. He swallows under the scorching stare they’re pinning him with. Patroclus’ memories are still flooding his consciousness, and a growing part of his self considers the idea of pushing Liam down into the sand and kissing him stupid. A growing part of his self that corresponds to another part of his anatomy, progressively growing more and more involved with the topic.

Theo looks down, bites his lower lip, noticing the similar state Liam is in. At the same height level, Liam is looking at the way he’s affected Theo’s body. Theo doesn’t need to meet his gaze to know he’s nodding to himself in satisfaction.

Implicitly admitting defeat, he raises his eyes again in Liam’s and smiles softly: “I thought you were straight?”

Liam snorts, smirks playfully. He tilts his head to the side, hair falling and exposing a long, inviting portion of the skin of his throat: “Theo” he whispers his name, invitingly, and Theo, eyes stuck to Liam’s mouth again, enthralled, almost takes a step forward and zeroes the distance between them.

“Had I been straight, do you think the witch would have thought of me for Achilles, and you as Patroclus?” he whispers, cheeky.

Theo’s breath catches. He swallows, beats his lashes, fights to remain focused: “Yes, but… your girlfriend?” he asks.

He swallows again, remembering Hayden. Patroclus, confused at the foreign memory, slows down his assault on Theo’s conscience, and recedes.

“Did you change your mind when I wasn’t looking?” Theo asks again, more in control.

Liam looks like he’s noticed his shifting mood, and smiles: “I’ve always been bi, you idiot” he answers, then he shakes Theo’s hand off and starts walking.

Theo swallows, frowns down at his body and waits a few seconds. He tries to think about unpleasant stuff, but, it’s pretty useless. Patroclus is pointing out that, regardless of what Theo and Liam like, himself and Achilles will like it alright, and, why doesn’t Theo just side along and enjoy the ride?

‘Patroclus, you little, conniving bitch’ he thinks to his new self. Judging from the way a smile is pulling on Theo’s lips and he’s filling with glee at the prospect of sleeping close to Achilles/Liam that night, Patroclus doesn’t mind the insult.

Theo snorts.

“Hey!”

He looks up. Liam has stopped, a few meters away from him, and has turned, looking expectantly at Theo: “Well? Aren’t you coming?” he asks.

He blushes immediately after, regretting the wording. Theo grins wolfishly, lewd.

“Oh, I don’t know, when you were closer to me it looked more like the case!” he answers, teasing.

Liam rolls his eyes and turns, but still waits for him, until Theo’s caught up.

By the time they reach the tents of the Myrmidons, the camp is swarming with activities. Achilles’ men haven’t taken part to the battle, but they have already heard what news there is and have started gossiping over whatever knowledge of the events of the day they have gathered. Many of them are busy with the preparation of the banquet, roasting meats and tending to what usually are considered tasks of the servants – but they are warriors, they have been prohibited from joining the battle, they are obviously bored as hell.

Theo and Liam hear many of them still discussing the fight between their sire and Agamemnon, their voice hushed enough and avoiding mentioning Achilles’ name, but that’s hardly a problem for supernaturally enhanced hearing. Liam is pleased to hear that many of his men approve Achilles’ decision, although they lament the lack of action they’re forced to.

Automedon, like always, notices the two princes before they both slip behind the door of the tent. He jogs close to them, catching up with Theo, who is about to follow Liam inside.

“Ah, prince Patroclus! Do you want me to ask Iphis to bring you some water?” he asks, hinting with his chin to Theo’s still damp tunic. Theo looks down at him, so glad that a little before making it to camp his erection has finally gone, and winces.

He smells like sweat and dried salt, and he bets Liam reeks of the same. He pulls his lips in a thin line and nods: “Might be a good idea, yes” he agrees.

“I will have her tend to it” Automedon assures, and makes to leave.

“Wait!” Theo stops him.

He remembers who this Iphis is – Patroclus’ slave, the one that Achilles gave him as a sort of present. A nice-looking girl with long hair that reaches the small of her back. She and Patroclus are good friends, at least according to Patroclus’ memories. Automedon looks at Theo with curious eyes.

“Where is she? I’d rather speak to her myself”

Automedon points to the side of Achilles’ tent that constitutes Patroclus’ quarters. Theo nods and enters, heading that way. Liam follows him with curious eyes, but, having heard already his intentions, doesn’t question him. On a bed looking as big and comfortable as Achilles’ Theo finds a girl sleeping.

Nice-looking as he remembered, Iphis has dark circles under her eyes. Theo kneels close to the bed and gently shakes her by the arm. She hums and beats her lashes, pushing up on an elbow as soon as she recognizes him.

“Oh, Patroclus! I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep. I’m… so sorry” she apologies, looking frantically around. She winces when, looking through the distant door of the tent, she notices the darkening sky.

“Why, what’s wrong with some rest?” Theo jokes, trying to sound reassuring: “are you okay? Do you feel better?”

He remembers Patroclus being worried for her, after catching her throwing up in the sand for the third morning in a row. Theo surreptitiously sniffs the air close to her: she smells of the oil the Greeks use for their hair, of soap, skin perspiration, and has the typical scent of a pregnant woman.

‘Ah. So you love Achilles but you’re still sleeping with women, too?’ Theo wonders, silently interrogating his new self. Patroclus doesn’t seem to find it a weird thing, though, point out that Briseis is Achilles’ slave as well, and he beds his slave, just like he does.

Theo represses the snort he feels coming at that, and instead smiles at the girl, who’s explaining that she’s gone through the same ordeal that morning, too, and has felt weak the rest of the day. Theo doesn’t know exactly what to do with pregnant women, but he nods to reassure her.

“It’s ok, don’t worry, seriously. It’s fine. You need to rest, it’s normal”

She looks at him with wide eyes, and from her expression Theo guesses that she hasn’t told Patroclus of her condition yet… but that she knows she is expecting. There is a flicker of fear in her eyes, and Theo smiles more, trying to look reassuring. He’s pretty damn sure Patroclus wouldn’t react any worse at learning he’s going to be the father of a child his friend-slave carries, although Theo himself feels a bit uneasy, knowing that he’s sort of going to be father.

‘Well, not really. It’s not really mine, and I’m not going to live enough to see it, after all’

He asks her water for the bath. She leaves, assuring that she’ll have it ready, and nods repeatedly at Theo’s recommendations that she does not lift anything heavy. He watches her disappear from the tent and moves back to join Liam. He’s still sitting in one of the two big, comfortable wooden chair, and is currently inspecting a set of daggers and knives that another boy, slightly younger than Automedon, has brought him.

“Alcimus said he had all my blades sharpened” he explains to Theo’s inquiring stare.

Theo nods and takes a seat in the second chair. The bath is readied shortly after, two men pouring water in a bronze basin from buckets that look heavy. They leave without uttering a word, directing them a quick bow with their head before leaving. Once alone again, he leans close to Liam.

“Did slaves bow in ancient Greece? I don’t remember”

Liam makes a face: “Yes, but not too openly. It was more an oriental thing, I guess. I don’t remember exactly either, to be honest” he explains, raising, his fingers already making quick work of pushing the tunic down. He doesn’t look bothered by standing naked right in front of a still sitting Theo, and promptly moves for the basin. He slides in, bends forwards, submerging his head and then squats, straightening his back and pushing his hair out of his eyes.

Theo beats his lashes and mimics him, stripping and walking to the basin: “Is there room for me, too?” he asks. He knows Achilles and Patroclus sometimes squeezed in there and bathed together, despite not being two small children anymore.

Liam grins and slides closer to the edge of the tub, hinting at the portion left empty. It’s about half, Theo can fit easily. He steps and dives in, as much as the small room allows, then sits back up, pushing his hair from his face as Liam has just done. Iphis approaches them, smiling fondly, offering them soap. She asks if they want her assistance, but they dismiss her, thanking her. She looks oddly at them after that, but leaves nonetheless, heading most likely to the women’s barracks.

“I think we’re too kind with the slaves” Liam mutters under his breath, rubbing soap into his hair.

Theo lathers up, nodding in agreement: “Yeah, I guess” he rinses the soap from his body and proceeds to wash his hair: “but, I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to risk sounding too harsh either”

“Especially because Patroclus is remembered for being a good man” Liam adds, spluttering water: “Eh, it’s not easy” he comments, shaking his head: “this is an aspect of ancient Greece that I have to admit I have never understood”

He stands, naked and dripping, again, Theo still sitting. There is a moment when Theo looks up from his position and Liam looks down, holding his gaze, suddenly aware of being naked in front of Theo, who is, and at the same time isn’t, his beloved, lover and friend. Liam swallows, fighting the urge to plunge down in the water, push Theo (Patroclus, he has a nice name, use it, boy) against the edge of the tub, kiss him on that impossibly red mouth, until his plump lower lip gets even puffier and his eyes turn glassy and dark.

Theo licks his lips, eyes darting down, eyebrows wiggling. When he meets Liam’s eyes again he is smiling, trying to hide his embarrassment under a smirk but failing, the blush on his cheeks obvious and the lust in his eyes as well.

“I know I should think of it as flattery, but, can you maybe please not dangle it in front of my face?”

Liam chuckles, the comment not dissolving the cloud of lust not entirely but effectively helping muffling it down. He steps out of the basin and dries up, picking another tunic up from the chest where Achilles keeps his clothes. 

Iphis has laid one out for him already, and he notices that it’s exactly the one he was looking for. He puts it on, all the while refusing to look at Theo’s dripping body, as he as well stands in the tub, steps out, bends to pick up something to dry with and then walk naked to his own bed, where Iphis has left a tunic already laid out for him, as well.

Liam oils the tips of his hair, offers the oil to Theo, and then decides to spread it on Theo’s hair himself. He gestures him to turn and proceeds to rub it on Theo’s damp, thick, dark hair. Theo, taken by surprise at the overwhelming flood of pleasured sensations the motions causes in him, closes his eyes and greets his teeth, to keep himself from moaning. Liam notices, and slows down, rubbing in circular movements even if he doesn’t have any more oil on his hands.

The moment they make eye contact is another long, intense one, lust coming back, and Theo realizes he’s close to tremble under Liam’s dark stare. Yes, Patroclus might want to take care of Achilles in every aspect of their joined life, included love and the art of sex – it makes sense, him being the older, wiser, the one supposed to teach younger Achilles the many ways of the world. But himself, his old, own self, Theo – he wants to take care of Liam, he wants to keep him safe, but then he wants to feel the fire this boy has inside, wants to be pushed and held down, wants to feel at his mercy.

He swallows. His eyes widen in fear and he looks away, stepping far from Liam, walking to the door of the tent. He’s not ready for this. He doesn’t know how to deal with this. He’s never felt anything like this – neither the attraction for Liam specifically, nor an attraction so deep, in general.

And yet he wonders if that is true, if both, either are true.

‘Have I possibly been so stupid I haven’t realized I want him?’ he asks himself.

Liam reaches him, places a warm, reassuring hand on his side. Theo snaps his head back, meeting his eyes. Liam looks apologetic, and the cloud of lust is still there, but he’s obviously trying to keep it at bay.

“Let’s go” he says: “I’m sure food is ready” he suggests.

Not a second too late, Alcimus shows up and informs them that the banquet is, in fact, ready, and the myrmidons are waiting for their princes to join.

Similarly to horsemanship, Theo hasn’t had a long experience with banquets, but Patroclus proves to have all the experience he needs. Theo finds himself perfectly at ease in the big, crowded tent, where the myrmidons eat, drink, spill half the content of their goblets onto themselves or their companions, and sing tremendously off keys, many of them. Achilles, on the other hand, has a very good voice, and so does Patroclus: Liam and Theo sing and begin songs they had no clue they knew, the rest of the crowd following and sometimes taking the lead.

They lose track of how much time they spend this way. When they head back to their tent, the sky is pitch black, their way only sporadically illuminated by the trembling light of a few torch here and there. The sentries fidget on their place, nod when Theo and Liam walk by to greet them. The Trojans apparently not attempting anything at their expenses, the Greeks can have their share of sleep and rest for the nights – however, not the sentries. They seem to appreciate the sympathetic pat on their shoulders that Achilles bestows on them, though.

Inside their tent is dark. Iphis is already sleeping in Patroclus’ quarters, the sole occupant of his bed. Theo quietly moves to check on her, caresses her tresses, pushing them off her face, and smiles at her expression, sound asleep. He straightens again and walks to join Liam, who’s yawning widely and stretching by his bed.

Still turned with his back to Theo, Liam grabs the bottom hem of his tunic and slips it off, casually dumping the garment on one of the chairs. He lifts a knee on the bed and makes to lie down, when he catches sight of Theo, by now right behind him, and stops. He straightens back up, swallows, sits down, legs closed.

Theo towers over him, stood in front of him. They hold each other’s gaze, Theo’s hands quickly reaching for his tunic and sliding it off. The tent is dark and silent, so much that their supernatural hearing is free to pick up sounds coming from the farthest points of the camp. And yet, at the same time the only thing they hear is each other’s breathing, the heartbeat of the other, the soft thud Theo’s tunic makes when it falls on the carpeted floor.

Liam swallows quietly, and slowly opens his legs, allowing room for Theo to come even closer, until the chimera’s shins reach the edge of the bed. Blue eyes can’t leave green ones, as Theo, now naked, stands still, flaunting his perfect body, presenting it to Liam’s eager eyes. The sculpted chest and defined stomach, the muscular arms, the soft trail of dark hairs starting from under his belly button and leading to a nest of dark curls. Liam raises his eyes before focusing on the growing erection, he meets again Theo’s eyes. The green of the irises is all but gone, swallowed by the pupils, Theo’s jaw a set line. Liam’s hands land on his hips, soft, growing bolder. Theo almost gasps, feeling the possessive touch of Liam’s fingers, the way they close on his skin, dragging him forward. Stumbling slightly, he places his own hands on Liam’s shoulders, for stability, the contact burning them and fusing them together like the closing of a circle.

Theo’s mouth barely opens, the tip of his teeth peeking from behind his lips. Liam holds his eyes, never leaving for a second, pushing his head forward until the tip of his nose connects with the skin of Theo’s abs, a few centimeters over his bellybutton. Theo startles, hissing at the contact, showing teeth but still not willing to break eye contact with Liam’s blue eyes.

Liam smirks and pushes further forward, his lips replacing his nose. Theo’s lips part further as he gasps, grasping Liam’s shoulder even more. Liam places a soft kiss on his heated skin, pushes out the tip of his tongue. He ignores absolutely the bulging erection now visibly jutting forward, and presses a second, soft, delicate and slow kiss to Theo’s skin.

Theo can feel goosebumps blooming on his skin, clenches his abs and his teeth to keep from moaning, and can’t find the strength to put together any form of reply to wipe that smug expression from Liam’s face. He’s not sure he minds it so much, either, he rather likes the way the werewolf looks at him as if close to eat him alive.

That’s when Patroclus chooses to step in and point out that Achilles’ mouth is pretty skilled, too, and Theo grits his teeth again, finding he likes that particular piece of information even more.

Liam’s hands move from Theo’s hips, fingers intertwining on the small of Theo’s back. His mouth recedes, the werewolf straightening his back and leaving the smooth expanse of Theo’s front.

“Come to bed” Liam whispers.

Theo has no obstacle keeping him from seeing Liam’s own erection, nestled in a crown of honey colored curls. It looks painfully hard and rather delicious, and Patroclus whispers treacherously how good he knows it tastes. Theo swallows, nodding hastily. Liam smiles, looking smug and satisfied even despite the boner, and slides back along his bed. He lies down, legs splayed, one arm extended to call Theo close to him.

Theo swallows again, bending one knee on the bed, landing on his hands, but hesitates. Liam insists, waving his extended arm a little, his smile turning slightly less confident, a blush turning his cheeks red. That’s when Theo can be sure this is really Liam, not Achilles, and he pushes forward, landing close to the blond boy. They intertwine legs, breath catching when both their erections make contacts with the warm skin of the other’s thigh.

Theo feels the impossibly mad urge to push against that warm skin, to slide better between Liam’s legs, aligning his and Liam’s erection and granting both of them a good, nice ride on the carousel of sexual pleasure, but he hesitates. Something in Liam’s face suggests that it’s better they don’t hurry things, that they’ll have time, in the next days… before Patroclus’ death.

The thought sobers him up. Liam senses Theo’s lust fading the slightest, and guesses his thoughts. He kisses his shoulder, nibbling at the skin.

“Let’s try to sleep, uh?” he suggests.

Theo nods, agreeing. They shift to get comfortable for the night, and, eventually, after a not irrelevant effort, they manage to ignore their still pulsating erections and fall asleep.

Coming the next morning, Theo wakes up to the most unusual dream. He’s lying naked on top of an equally naked Liam, remembers being the most aroused he’s ever been his entire life, and knows with absolute certainty that he hasn’t acted on that lust.

It’s even weirder when Liam wakes up, too, and they both realize the predicament they still find themselves into. Liam doesn’t look so self-confident now, his cheeks tinted red. They dress and gets up right before Iphis comes to check on them, asking if they want their breakfast. Theo agrees and leaves Liam for barely a couple of minutes, following her on her way for food. She reeks of exhaustion and Theo knows morning sickness still torments her. He insists that she rest for the day, but she stubbornly, albeit gently and respectfully, refuses, and tells him that her condition (she doesn’t the word ‘pregnant’ out loud) has never stopped women from tending to their daily tasks.

In the end Theo manages to have her promise him she won’t strain herself, and he goes back to Liam. By the time he sits next to him, Automedon has already brought them food. Liam is engaging him in a conversation on the battle that has already started for the day, pointedly ignoring Theo. The chimera bends to stab a piece of lamb and picks a pastry with his fingers, the honey sticky and delicious in his mouth. He uses breakfast as a cover to give a good sniff at Liam and yes, that’s jealousy, the faint odor he’s smelling from the werewolf.

Theo wonders, if this is Liam being jealous of the girl, or Achilles. He has the suspect it’s the former, the latter, after all, belonging to a culture that doesn’t see a problem with loving a man and at the same time lying with a woman, even for the sole purpose of pleasure or to have children from her.

‘But Liam, on the other hand…’

He’s distracted from his thoughts when he hears Automedon making the name of Hector. Theo steps into the discussion. Hector is already out, on the battlefield, as Automedon confirms. As soon as they boy leaves them, Liam turns to the chimera.

“Let’s go watch the battle” he suggests. He steals a pastry and moans, eyes closed in delight: “okay, let’s go, after breakfast” he amends.

Theo chuckles and nods. The food is amazing. They eat with gusto, Liam having apparently decided to forget his previous fit of jealousy.

“Oh man, food doesn’t taste this good in our world” Liam complains, face stuffed with meat and pastry at the same time. Theo snorts but agrees, nonetheless. There is just something about the food in here, even the cold meat left over from the banquet of the night before, that is purely superior to what they were used to. And well, Theo isn’t surprised, having survived on gas station food for the main part of his life, but he isn’t too surprised to know it’s the same for Liam.

“Must be the preservatives they put in food in modern world” he hypothesizes.

Liam nods along, not really interested in deepening the point but rather focusing on stealing as many pastries he can from Theo. They bicker over ownership of the last two and in the end decide to split, even if Theo knows Liam has had more than he did.

They mount on the ship of the myrmidons right after. The morning is less bright than the day before, a few clouds hiding the sun. it’s a good thing for the men busy with the fighting, less likely to roast in their cuirass, but not for the aurigas leading their chariots, who can’t count on the sunlight to cover them, protecting them from the arrows of their enemies. Liam winces when Odysseus’ one is killed by a Trojan spear, and Odysseus finds himself rolling in the dust, jostled off the chariot. He doesn’t waste time straightening up and mounting on a Trojan chariot, slaughtering its owner and Auriga and taking possession of it.

“Well that was cool” Theo points out, impressed.

Liam hums in agreement: “Yeah, the typical stunt you’d expect from Odysseus”

That is when they notice a whirlwind of bodies of Greek warriors falling dead to the ground, close by. Odysseus keeps out of the way of said whirlwind, cautiously so. The whirlwind, Theo and Liam bet, and after a while can see, is Hector, or Mason.

Liam grimaces, noticing. Mason moves with swift, efficient movements, he knows where to strike and when. He doesn’t waste time with elegant moves, doesn’t shove off, he’s precise and clean – but it’s horrifying to witness, he’s killing without batting an eye. Theo darts a quick glance Liam’s way. He doesn’t dare to make a comment. The way Hector fights reminds him a lot of the fighting style of the Beast.

“Why Mason” Liam murmurs, his face hidden under a frown and a grimace.

Theo doesn’t need to hear the complete question to know Liam wants to know why the witch has picked Mason to play Hector. Just like he doesn’t need to hear it from her, he guesses that this is the violence that the Beast has left in his soul. Plus, picking Liam’s best friend as the final enemy that Liam has to slaughter complicates Liam’s part in this trial – which is all the better for the witch.

Liam, however, looks as if he really wanted to know, and Theo figures that, even if he’s thinking so, he needs hearing it.

“Probably it’s because of when he was the Beast” he answers, voice somber and soft.

Liam turns to look at him. His expression shows barely contained anger and is slowly turning into a glare. He turns again, his attention on Mason.

“It’s also to make it difficult for you to finish the game” Theo continues.

Liam nods: “That is the part that I have less problem accepting” he replies.

When he looks again at Theo he’s full on glaring, and Theo doesn’t have to check his chemosignal or smell to know he’s angry.

“He wouldn’t have turned into a murderer if it wasn’t for you” he accuses.

Theo takes the blow, knowing he deserves it, and nods.

“No, you’re right. He probably wouldn’t”

Liam glares further, takes a step forward: “This is your fault” he accuses, eyes unfocused. Theo recognizes the signs of the IED taking over, and knows better than to argue against it. He just nods, simply agreeing with it, and lowers his gaze for a few moments before daring another look Liam’s way.

“I’m sorry”

Liam snorts, a cruel smile and a still angry glare: “You think that’s enough? You saying you’re sorry? You turned him into a murderer” he accuses. He looks tempted to hit Theo: “Did you pick him because he was too good? Did you wanted to ruin him, make him more like you? Turn him into the murderer you already were?”

Theo knows better than to take offense at that. First because it’s true. Partly. Secondly because Liam isn’t talking rationally. There is no filter between his angry, uncontrolled self and his mouth right now. And yet it hurts. Especially after discovering the connection he shares with him, it hurts to hear now that Liam… almost hates him.

He nods, unable to oppose more resistance.

“I’m sorry” he whispers.

Liam clenches his teeth, looks away. He looks really tempted to strike Theo, and he closes his hands on the wood of the ship, keeping them in front of him, to be sure he won’t hit him. Theo appreciates and at the same time wonders if Liam is doing it only because Achilles and Patroclus can’t be seen fighting over Trojan warriors’ fighting style.

Although, it’s extremely unlikely that at the present moment Liam’s mind is clear enough that he can think this subtly.

Theo looks down.

“Leave”

He looks up, surprised, too late to hide the hurt blooming on his expression. Liam still isn’t looking his way, eyes set on the battlefield. Liam shakes his head, blond hair falling from his shoulder: “Leave” he repeats.

Theo nods, and does. He quietly dismount the ship of the myrmidons and leaves the tent. He needs to give Liam some space, he’s understood it with ease. But it is also good for him, because he can’t keep his face straight around Liam, right now, not with this horrible, absolutely unprecedented feeling tearing at his heart. His stolen heart.

He finds himself to the corral of Achilles’ divine horses, Balius and Xanthos. They raise their snouts immediately, sensing him and picking on his mood. Balius quirks his muzzle to the side in a questioning manner, so much that he almost looks human, and it triggers an involuntary snort from Theo. He offers them one hand. Xanthos walks close to him, pressing his muzzle against his knuckles. Deep eyes look into Theo’s ones. The boy swallows, once again overwhelmed by the feeling of knowing he’s looking at something much powerful than himself. And yet this overwhelming feeling isn’t unpleasant, not as he would have expected. He’s always hated when the Dread Doctors made him work with creatures stronger than him, but now… this is different.

Balius reaches him as well and pushes his snout against his arm. Theo offers him his other hand, caressing him like he’s doing with Xanthos. Accidentally, his eyes fall to his right. Not too far, only a few meters away, Briseis is walking with a small group of other women. Theo pats the horses’ noses and leaves, hurrying after her.

“Briseis!” he calls her, not caring if the women see him, Achilles’ best friend and squire, approaching the woman that king Agamemnon stole from his sire.

Briseis stops, and so do the other women. Her dark eyes widen in surprise. She clears her throat and turns to the other women, making a stiff gesture their way. They cast dubious looks towards her but leave as she’s requested. When they’re finally alone she turns, looking at Theo with wide eyes, and an utterly surprised expression.

“What the fuck! Theo! What’s going on! Where the fuck am I!” she whisper-yells.

“Shhht! Keep it down” Theo starts, looking around. Nobody is paying them attention, but he knows better than believing that just because no eyes are directly pointed their way. He grabs her by an elbow and drags her to a more secluded spot.

“Malia” he says. She raises an eyebrow, looking as if she was questioning his sanity. He quickly proceeds to explain her the situation, the witch taking her, Mason and Scott’s mother as hostage and forcing him and Liam to undertake a trial.

She refuses to believe it initially, but fortuitously happens to find Liam’s figure, still on the ship of the myrmidons, right when she’s mid-rant through going on how little Theo can be trusted and how better it’d be for him to come up with a better cover for his tricks.

“Oh shit, you’re telling the truth” she comments, eyes still glued on Liam.

Then she quickly turns to Theo, grabbing one of his hands in hers: “Shit, Theo, I don’t know anything about the Iliad! What the fuck am I supposed to do!”

“Nothing, don’t worry. You just go on the way you’ve done so far. Only me and Liam have to worry about respecting the plot of the poem. You and the other two can do whatever you want, I just wanted to make sure you knew you’re… well, you”

She frowns: “What do you mean? Wait, so Mason and Melissa are here too? Where are they?”

Theo sighs, and points a thumb behind his back, in direction of the battlefield and the city of Troy. Malia pales slightly.

“Oh shit” she mutters.

Theo pulls his lips in a thin line and nods: “Yep” he agrees, popping the final letter.

She rolls her eyes and groans: “Fuck”

“Look” Theo insists: “Once I die, I need you to help Liam”

She glares at him, confused: “Die?”

Theo explains her who she is, what that means, and that she’ll be handed back to Achilles’ once Patroclus is dead. She looks sorry for him, but she makes her best to hide it. She promises she will help Liam not losing himself to his and Achilles’ fury, combined after Patroclus’ death.

Theo wishes he could tell her more. He wonders why the witch has picked her as Briseis, but sort of figures it out when he notices the way she carries herself now, here, in this world. She’s a captive princess here, a slave, spoils of war. But, before the war, she was a princess destined to become queen. Similarly, Malia, as the daughter of Peter Hale, would have had an important role within the Hale pack… if the Hale pack hadn’t been destroyed.

Malia has lived most of her life as a coyote, and still relies more on her lupine form rather than her human one. As Briseis, instead, she carries with confidence, oozes femininity and looks perfectly at ease in her human body.

‘So I guess that’s my answer’ he muses.

He leaves her shortly after, when they notices some of Agamemnon’s guards are looking for her.

Theo hesitates, and Malia smirks his way: “Don’t worry, Theo. I don’t plan to let anyone rape me. And I don’t have any intention to let Agamemnon fuck me, either” she comments, smiling with a threatening light in her eyes.

Theo feels admittedly better now, knowing she has conscience of her real abilities, feels less like he’s abandoning her like a sheep amid a pack of wolves. He watches her leave and smirks to himself. Agamemnon doesn’t know what it’s waiting for him, if he tries to make a move on her. Theo doesn’t know how much he can trust Menelaus’ words about the honor of his brother, so, it's good to know Malia will be able to handle any stunt the king might pull.

He heads back to Achilles’ tent, wondering if Liam’s rage has dimmed down enough that he can tolerate Theo’s company.

He finds Liam inside, standing aimlessly in the middle of it. He turns, whipping his head Theo’s way before Theo has actually entered the tent, picking on his scent. Theo halts, a few steps from the tent. They hold eyes, Liam looking sorry, but the apology not leaving his mouth. Theo is fine with that. Liam’s words, despite harsh, were true. He’s not looking for an apology.

“Come here” Liam says, raising the last of his voice to make it sound like a question or a request.

Theo steps in the tent, stopping not too far from Liam. The werewolf holds his eyes and swallows, opens his mouth, ready to apologize, but Theo looks away. He sits on the feet of Achilles’ bed and sighs, elbows on his knees, head hunched forward.

“Do not apologize for things that are true”

Liam rushes to his side, stops right in front of Theo. He crouches between Theo’s knees and takes his hands in his own: “I apologize for things I said too harshly”

Theo snorts, a bitter smile raising on his lips: “Is this Liam talking or Achilles?” he asks: “Liam, you think this is my fault. And it is. I made Mason the host of the Beast”

Liam shakes his head: “I don’t hold it against you anymore. That’s between you and Mason”

Theo snorts again, shakes his head, but when he meets Liam’s eyes again his smile has lost most of its bitterness: “But you were still right”

Liam shakes his head, closes his eyes. He stares away at nothing, and when he meets Theo’s eyes again his mouth is a thin line: “I think I know why the witch picked me. It’s the anger”

Theo quirks his eyebrow: “Angry Little Beta? I’ve already said it”

Liam snorts, smiles, shakes his head and looks at Theo with a fond expression: “You were being a dick. But it’s true. I’m strong, I’m Scott’s only bitten beta. But I still need to learn to control my anger, and anger is what Achilles was famous for”

Theo listens to that, and nods: “Well. You aren’t just your anger” he argues.

“Neither was Achilles” Liam replies.

Theo smile. They look at each other, in this crazy intense way they’ve taken up since entering this reality. It’s too intimate, and Theo is growing more and more aware that this isn’t just because of Achilles and Patroclus, because of the bond the two share. He needs to break this tension, he thinks, so he tells Liam about his meeting with Malia.

He mentions feeling better now, no longer like they’re leaving her like a sheep amidst a pack of wolves.

“Dude” Liam chuckles: “she literally is worse than a wolf!”

Theo, chuckling, agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of this please!! Comments, kudos - feedbacks are cookies and I'm starving!!
> 
> Oh, and, Iphis technically was a man. I'm following Pat Barker's 'the silence of the girls' on this (read it. Or not. I mean, depends how much you want to cry...?)


	5. Patroclus' Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living the dream, until it turns sour.

Theo doesn’t see much of Malia, or Briseis, during the following days. She keeps mostly to the women’s barracks, busy herself with tasks that Theo admits not caring enough to dwell upon. As long as she can defend herself, that’s fine for Theo. He notices her coming and going from Agamemnon’s tent, too, or working in the infirmary with Machaon. Iphis is with her more and more. Occasionally, Theo joins them, approaching the girls when they are together. He makes sure to do so only when Liam is busy elsewhere, though: people tend to consider Patroclus a close extension of Achilles’ presence, and he doesn’t want anyone to think he’s checking on Briseis on Achilles’ behalf.

Meeting with Malia when Iphis is around is weird, though. She keeps sending Theo these stares, wide-eyed and obviously trying to communicate with him with some sort of secret code made of gestures and staring. To some extent Theo manages to work out what she wants – but sometimes it’s so difficult he just grabs Malia by the elbow, asks Iphis to leave them, and they talk whenever the definition of ‘private’ from the standard of that time applies.

Life as Briseis isn’t too bad, at least according to the scarce things she tells him. She handles her own, helps other women a lot, being physically stronger than most men at the camp. She’s even taken on helping some of the younger warriors with their trainings, which Theo finds hilarious and adorable at the same time. She tells him about some of these young, strapping men and their crestfallen expressions, when she beats them in fighting.

“I think I’m going to ask Pilos to make me a sword. He would totally do it for me, he would adopt me if he could. Or marry me, I don’t know. Man, this world is fucked up!” she laughs, shaking her head.

Theo frowns, a smile creeping up on his lips as well: “Who’s Pilos?” he asks.

She points in direction of one of the smithy close to Agamemnon’s tent. There is a middle-aged man, strong and bulky. For the standard of this world, he’s almost older than a nonagenarian in Beacon Hills. Only king Nestor is older than this guy, probably, and Theo wouldn’t bet money on that either.

Malia inquires if her presence on the training grounds with the warriors will be a problem. Theo doesn’t think so, the champions being the only ones who have to stick by the rules, to live up to the values of this made up reality. He hypothesizes Malia, just like Mason and Melissa, could totally break character and do whatever the fuck they wanted, but he still tells her he’ll ask the witch, to be sure.

He and Liam walk the long way to the point on the beach where they woke up. The witch appears again, in the same spot, this time both Theo and Liam waiting for her to spring out of the water. She’s still beautiful, the perfect Thetis, long dark hair, long black dress, golden bracelets that gleam under the sunrays and jingle when she moves her arms.

She gifts them with one of those, handing it to Theo: “Use this, to call me. Put it on, it’s big enough, it will fit you. Just slide the tip of your finger along it, say my name. I’ll try to appear as close to you as possible” she explains.

Theo has the feeling she usually is much less supportive with champions. He wonders if the change is because she finds them amusing, what with Liam knowing the background story of the Iliad so well, he’s behaving like the perfect Achilles.

“How much are you actually like Thetis, do you need water to show up?” Liam asks.

Theo raises an eyebrow his way, impressed at the good question. The boy is entirely focused on the witch and doesn’t see it, which is a bonus. The witch makes a grimace and a shaky gesture with her hand, her bracelets jingling and ringing: “Eh… if there is water it’s easier” she answers.

“What about the ships? Can you show up there if we call you?” Theo suggests.

And that’s how they set up an almost daily meeting with the witch. Who supposedly is their enemy, being the main reason they’re trapped in a fake reality where they’re risking their lives, and who is also keeping hostages their three friends – they’ve already evolved to being Theo’s friends too, in the short time he’s spent here. Theo doesn’t want to waste energy thinking about it, although he should.

He’s going to have a ton of questions to ask his old self, when he makes it back to Beacon Hills.

This is another new thing: the absolute certainty that he will make it till the end, that he will survive. He’s got the easy part, after all, so this isn’t a surprise – Patroclus dies, without having to kill his lifelong friend like instead Liam will have to do. From some point of view, as soon as Theo has learned what was the role he has to play in this game, he’s known that he’d come back to Beacon Hills looking like the good guy who’s done his part. But a new certainty joins the old one now, the awareness that so will Liam, that he will play his part till the end, just as well, without too much thinking, focusing entirely on coming back… to Beacon Hills.

Liam tells him, looking straight into Theo’s green eyes, on their second night they spend in the world of the Iliad. When darkness and silence have taken over the Greek camp, Theo and Liam lie on Achilles’ bed, naked and wide-eyed, supernaturally enhanced sight having no issue finding the other in the dark. They favor a hushed tone for their conversations, which makes it easier to open their hearts. Even for Theo, who has never felt this feeling once in his life, and could barely describe it – it’s bordering on satisfaction, knowing that he’s so close to another person that he will entrust them, that he will and can trust Liam with his secrets.

In the dark of the tent Theo whispers to Liam things that in Beacon Hills he wouldn’t dare admit to his own mind, and here they weight less, they come easy to his mouth. Things like I’m sorry, things like I regret, and a long list of what he does, in fact, regret doing. He never lies, so he tells Liam things that Liam will like hearing, and he’ll tell him things he won’t, like failing taking over the pack.

“I’m glad you didn’t manage to” is all the blond boy replies.

“Maybe I am, too” Theo adds, adding it as an afterthought.

It’s during one of the nights they spend like this that Liam, propped on his elbow, his mouth so close to Theo’s face, swears to Theo that he will complete his part of the trial. Theo believes him, but Liam isn’t done, he leans closer, and whispers: “Theo, I will complete this, but I won’t do it just for Mason, or Malia, or Melissa. I will do it for you”

‘I will do it to be able to see you again’ is the part he doesn’t utter, but Theo hears it anyway, and he slips a hand under the back of Liam’s head, fingers carding through his blond mane. He smiles at him, wondering how much Liam is relying on Achilles’ courage to drop these many weights off his chest. But then, how much is Theo himself counting on Patroclus to help him do the same? On the bond he shares with Achilles?

He grins slightly, the feeling of fondness he’s already grown accustomed to feeling when he’s this close to Liam, alone with him, in the dark of the tent, just the two of them, no past, no future, only this. It blooms in his chest, inflates Theo’s stolen heart and in the end it’s what gives him the courage to zero the distance between their faces.

Their first kiss tastes like a secret and a promise, Liam opening his mouth immediately, almost diving in, but Theo keeping it innocent, chaste. He tilts his head to the side, pressing his lips close to Liam’s, savoring them and enjoying the moment. He breathes the other in, basks in the certainty that having someone to cherish and treasure gives him, and his eyes fill with tears, without him even realizing, suddenly so afraid he will lose this, when they wake up, when they return to their real selves.

Liam smells the salty tang of the tears and retreats, his eyes shining supernaturally yellow in the night. He caresses Theo’s cheeks, holding eyes with him, astonished at the way Theo is opening up, so much as to cry in front of another.

“Theo” he whispers, against his lips. He presses in, kissing that mouth again, shifts only so to look at the green eyes with a little more ease. Theo doesn’t want to talk, though, doesn’t want to waste their short time with promises they can’t know if they’ll be able to keep – what if when they go back to Beacon Hills they won’t have this connection to keep them together, anymore? He doesn’t want to tie Liam to himself, he wants Liam free, and at the same time he is selfish enough to not want to care for promises now. He pushes forward, turning the kiss demanding. Liam hesitates at first, seemingly wanting to continue talking, but the insistence of Theo’s mouth against his makes him soon lose that resolve.

They kiss in a tangle of limbs, fingers in each other’s hair, bodies aligned impossibly close. Patroclus wants to push Achilles down, cover him in kisses until he’s trembling, but Theo is already shivering, under Liam’s hot hands and mouth, he’s lost in the pleasure Liam is spreading through his veins. Liam pushes him down, has him on his back, pins him to the bed with his weight, kissing him until Theo’s bordering on incoherency, then he slides down Theo’s body, just on his throat, kissing and nipping at his neck. Theo bites his lower lip and trembles, moaning softly into the night, hips pushing up to meet Liam’s. The blond boy aligns their erections and takes both into his hand, resuming kissing Theo’s mouth, devouring every sound, however soft, Theo lets out.

Theo comes, back arched, eyes closed, teeth gritted together as to not make any noise, and then he wonders why are they bothering keeping it a secret when the entire camp and even the people in the city know what Patroclus and Achilles do in the dark of the night.

When he comes back, Liam is panting over him, lost in the same pleasure Theo was drowning into only a few moments prior, and he comes down after painting Theo’s chest with his spent. They hold each other’s eyes, and laugh, suddenly finding everything so much simpler, and brighter, better. Liam kisses him and gets up, finds a bit of water and a cloth, helps Theo clean up the minimum required. They go back to bed, and sleep comes so much more easily, compared to the nights before.

With the passing days they meet more and more of the other leaders, commanders, kings. They keep on watching the battlefield from the ship of the myrmidons, pointing at moves and naming warriors, recognizing them by their fighting style, by their armors or by how reckless or cautious they are. After battle, it happens more and more that they meet them in the camp, the heroes from their side looking like they enjoy engaging both Theo and Liam in conversation.

There are days when they know that it’s better if they stick to the tents of the Myrmidons, especially if the Trojans have had the upper hands for too long in the day. Many Greek warrior die, and the mood in the camp takes a hard hit. The banquets at night turn less festive and rather gloomy, the Myrmidons drinking themselves into stupor to forget their unanswered wish to join the battle. Achilles still stirs his men’s moods and cheers them up, picking up the lyre he’s so good at playing. The myrmidons grow restless, the rest of the Greek warriors gloomy and tired. The other leaders are more and more worried each passing day. They start to cast glances Achilles’ way, thinking they’re being discrete about it, obviously tempted to ask him, to beg him to put aside his pride and wounded honor and join the fight, save them.

They never utter their thoughts, though, knowing better than that, and Achilles pretends he doesn’t know what their eyes are trying to tell him. Theo finds it frustrating, and he realizes Patroclus solemnly agrees.

One day, the Trojans have it so good they send to the infirmary half the remaining leaders, with injuries of varying gravity. Even Agamemnon is wounded, and has to retreat from battle. That day the Greeks are really afraid, for the first time, that they will have to pick one of their own to fight Hector, and they will risk losing, because, not even the strongest could face Hector. Only Achilles.

Diomedes is fast, strong, impressive. Ajax is, too, but they need him to keep up the rear of the Greek forces. Odysseus is quick and cunning, but that won’t save him in a duel against the Trojan prince. Hector is a menace, a whirlwind of death, and Theo is impressed, both in a good and bad way. Liam grows restless, the call for the fight itching at Achilles’ conscience but his pride anchoring him to his decision. Liam, for his own, he’s both scared and thriving at the idea of joining the fight – in the real world, Liam has never killed a man. Theo understands his nervousness.

But he also feels Patroclus’ desperately itching to pick up his spear and sword and help the Greeks, if only to stop the bloodshed Mason, as Hector, is perpetrating. And he doesn’t like the idea of Liam joining the fight, either.

In the end, to distract both himself and Liam, as well as their new selves, Theo pushes and drags Liam to the beach almost every morning by now. They wake up, have breakfast, spend too much time on Achilles’ ship looking at the Greeks losing the battle of the day. The Trojans are coming closer and closer to their ships, they are so close now, at night they can hear them singing. They’re the one having merry banquets now, no longer afraid they will lose, their spouses die or live their life in slavery.

“They think they’ll win” Liam mutters, shaking his head in frustration and regret, looking away from the camp. That’s usually when Theo suggests they head for the beach.

He’s never swum much, before, in their world. Here, however, Patroclus is a skilled swimmer, just like with horse riding, singing army songs and who knows how many other things. Theo enjoys relying on Patroclus’ abilities, but it shakes him, too.

‘I thought I was good just at killing’ he muses.

‘I don’t think so’ Patroclus often argues: ‘if you’d grown up like I have, you’d be good at this, too’

Something they both agree upon, is that they enjoy taking care of Achilles, or Liam. Theo has gotten really good at that, so much that by now Liam doesn’t even realize anymore that the chimera is steering him this and that way, to keep his anger at bay.

Theo wonders if this will only make it worse, when Patroclus will die.

To distract his men and keep their morale high, Achilles joins them in their training sessions. It’s a bit unfair, given that he’s supposed to be half a god and bulkier than most. He might not really be a demi-god but he still stronger than any mortal man, what with the supernatural strength of a werewolf.

The myrmidons warriors, however, don’t mind, even seem to appreciate and treasure the chance to spar with their commander. Even if they’re bound to lose. They make rounds of bets on how long the next warrior will last against their prince, and laugh goodheartedly when defeat unavoidably comes for the human facing Achilles.

“Prince Patroclus!” they call, turning to Theo: “please, join us! Show us that even the great Achilles can be faced for longer than ten minutes!”

Theo laughs and accepts the challenge. Liam is already in the training square, grin in place, ready for him. The way he’s rolled his tunic down, around his hips, should make him look ridiculous – and yet it’s incredible how little effeminate he looks, even with the long hair and tunic donned as a skirt.

“Why, Dorus was already doing that!” he replies, pretending he doesn’t look forward joining Liam in the ring even if he’s already moving.

“Shht! Don’t say that!” some men pleads, good-humored, slapping the back of a warrior who looks proud with himself – Dorus, who is winning and leading the bets by being the only one to last twelve minutes against Achilles.

“I am the mightiest warrior among the Myrmidons after Achilles!” the man boasts.

Theo smirks, his eyes on fire, and doesn’t answer. He and Liam don’t hold back: they start their dance and dart away to avoid the punches the other is throwing, kicking and elbowing and dodging again. The men cheer loudly at first, but after short they turn to a silent awed, impressed. Theo does his best, using all the tricks he knows and adopting every strategy, however dirty, but in the end Liam tackles him to the ground and holds him there, for the five seconds he needs to be declared winner.

He grins madly and stands up, pushing on his arm and extending a hand to Theo as well. The men cheer wildly, complimenting Patroclus too – who is supposed to be human, after all. Theo has the feeling that many of them hold his new self in higher consideration than even their ruling prince, and humbly blushes, smiling at their praises.

Liam wraps him in a hug and insists they go war a swim right after. They stay closer to the camp this time, have fun in a way Theo has never had in his entire life, both as a human and then as a chimera. Liam looks at him with bright, blue eyes and Theo feels almost scared, at the intensity of whatever feeling he sees reflected in them.

Liam swims by him, silence fallen again, and it feels too much like the dark night in the tent, Theo too afraid the blond boy will start to speak, pronounce words Theo is not ready to hear – so he pushes forward, slides fingers through the blond strands and kisses Liam, Liam promptly kissing back. When they stop and retreats to the shore, there is an amused expression on Liam’s face, as if to say, you might stop me every time I’m about to say it, but I know I’ll tell you, anyway.

Theo swallows and looks away, not ready.

The day comes when, walking alone in the camp, Odysseus and Diomedes find Theo alone. Achilles is in his tent, the air is scorching hot, the smell of the blood hanging even more to the bodies of the warriors. The Greeks are dying, the tents of the infirmary are so full some of the wounded lie in the dirt, outside, and Machaon have more and more women of every age to come and help him tending to the patients. Still, the Greeks soldiers die, many even before the healer had a chance to visit them.

Agamemnon is furious, Ajax, the big defender of the Achaeans, exhausted, has fallen asleep on the inner side of his big, squared shield. His brother Teucer is shaking his shoulder, trying to rouse him and help him to his tent. Menelaus and Agamemnon fight, Menelaus insisting that his brother apologizes to Achilles.

“We need him, Agamemnon! Are you going to wait till the last of the Greeks is dead before bowing your head!” he shouts.

“He is leaving the Greeks to their death just as well! He could pick up his spear and go back to the fight! Why should I, the king of kings, apologize!” Agamemnon shouts back.

Theo pretends he hasn’t heard, even if by then he is walking really close to Agamemnon’s tent. He was looking for news and he’s found them, but the two brothers inside the tent of the chief-commander don’t need to know he’s heard them.

He walks away, aiming for the infirmary. He wants to check on the men lying there and try to assess the damage. He finds Iphis along the way, her belly growing bigger with every passing day now. She’s showing since a few days ago, and that’s when she’s stopped pretending things were different even in front of the rest of the women. She works with Machaon now, helping him preparing cataplasms to apply to the wounds. Theo doesn’t approve: that’s a work requiring a lot of standing up from her. He tries to tell her to at least sit down while she keeps at the task, with only a minimum success.

Malia is by her side, at least. She too has joined Machaon in the infirmary, and goes around taking the pain of the warriors close to death. Theo approaches her but doesn’t engage her in conversation- she’s too busy. They hold eyes for a few minute, Malia crouched by a dying warrior, his hand in hers, while Theo stands, stood by Iphis. Malia’s dark eyes thunder, demanding to know why these many deaths. Theo can’t answer.

He leaves. He wishes for Liam’s presence. He needs to hear it again, from him, that there is a meaning, for Achilles leaving so many people to die. And he needs to be close to Liam because that’s something that his body, mind and soul (if he has one) has taken to rely on, whenever this close to death.

He’s almost made it to the myrmidons’ tents, when Odisseus and Diomedes find him.

“Patroclus!” Diomedes calls. He’s smiling, but that’s hardly new – Diomedes always smiles. He is everyone’s favorite and everyone’s friend, even the common soldiers. He’s the youngest of the princes and yet one of the most experienced. Prince of Argo, one day he will be king, or so Liam has told Theo. Theo likes him, and can see how he’ll be a good king.

If they were in the modern world, Diomedes would probably be your stereotypical definition of the bro type. He kind of looks like Scott: tall, bulky, long dark hair, gentle dark eyes.

Beside him, Odysseus is the constant presence that rarely misses. Shorter hair, curly, brown, green eyes. Odysseus is strong and cunning, and if it wasn’t for the obvious way his opinion of Achilles deteriorates by the minute, Odysseus would be Theo’s favorite. They are very, very similar, after all.

Odysseus is scowling at him, right now. He limps, dragging his left leg. Both of them look exhausted, bruised and still covered in the remaining of the battle, blood and guts, especially their arms.

“Odysseus, Diomedes” Theo greets them back. He jogs closer to them, so that Odysseus doesn’t have to strain his injured leg too much. Odysseus grimaces but nods, appreciating. He uses his spear to help himself standing.

Diomedes looks down, his gentle eyes turning embarrassed. Odysseus meets Theo’s one with purpose, but there is also the never missing layer of mockery in them.

“I don’t suppose your beloved friend has changed his mind” Odysseus muses out loud.

Theo’s lips press together in a thin line. He meets his eyes and shakes his head.

“No, he hasn’t. He won’t, if Agamemnon won’t apologize” he confirms.

Odysseus grins in unabashed sarcasm, but at least refrains from uttering whatever mean comment he’s obviously thinking.

Theo can’t blame him: Odysseus is still fighting, every day. He goes into the battlefield and risks his life every day, and he risks it more now without Achilles, only because of a fight between two stubborn idiots who care more for their pride. He risks his life in a war that he didn’t want to take part to, and tried his hardest not to be recruited for, and now he’s afraid he’ll die, because of a petty fight.

Theo can totally understand him. His expression tells the king of Ithaca that he has all Theo’s sympathy, but that, for Odysseus, is not enough. He can hardly save his life with Patroclus’ sympathy, after all. Another thing that Theo understands very well.

Odysseus sighs, looking down, thinking. When he meets Theo’s eyes again, his expression speaks loudly about how scarcely he thinks he’ll succeed with whatever he’s about to do.

“Look. I have to ask. Why don’t you do it, in his stead?”

Suddenly, Theo feels like that time earth opened from under his feet and he fell into Hell. He almost has to check that the ground is still there, to make sure he won’t end up in no Hell with Tara ripping his heart out his chest, repeatedly and systematically, every day, every night, every minute.

He steels himself. Supernatural senses and the training he’s had to develop under the Dread Doctor are the only reasons he doesn’t let his emotions slip, bleeding on his face. He puts on his expressionless mask, eyes hard, almost glaring.

He knew this moment was coming.

Knowing it, though, doesn’t make facing it any easier.

He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to be told that he could take Achilles’ armor and go die.

He doesn’t want to leave Liam here, to finish the game. He doesn’t want to leave Liam, period.

He steels himself and lets his voice drops, taking on an unusually cold undertone. Odysseus notices, his eyes getting colder. Diomedes shifts in his place, slightly surprised at the sudden tension between his friends, looks from one to the other.

“I hardly qualify as second best warrior in this camp, right after Achilles”

“Maybe, but you’re a damn good warrior. And, seeing Achilles in battle would already give us an advantage. The Trojan would lose their resolve, our warriors would fight harder. Wear Achilles’ armor, lead the Myrmidons. Help us” he asks, taking a step closer, his bloodied hand closing over Patroclus’ arm. His eyes are hard, glaring, but there is a hint of fear in them.

“Patroclus, help us. Our men are dying. You see how close the Trojans are to our ships. Hector laughs at us, threatens to set our ships on fire. Patroclus, if Achilles won’t stop his sulking, then you have to do something”

Patroclus retracts his arm. Odysseus lets him go, looking at him with disappointment, even contempt, barely concealed. As if he wasn’t expecting Patroclus to do it, anyway. Diomedes has stopped breathing, his body a single coil of tension.

“I wish I could, Odysseus, but there is no way I can do this. I won’t pass as Achilles. And I will not do that to him, either”

Odysseus scoffs, bitterly: “You would, and you know it. But you are right, you will not go against him. Better under or behind him, but never against, uh?” he bites, smiling cruelly, and he leaves, limping away, aiding himself with the bloodied spear.

Theo exhales slowly. At his left, Diomedes fidgets again, in his spot, and blows out air softly. He shakes his head and chuckles somberly: “You wouldn’t believe he’s the king of diplomacy, when he behaves like that, uh” he comments, half-apologizing in Odysseus’ stead.

Theo scoffs, grimacing, eyes still following Odysseus until he loses him in the throng of people moving in the camp. Then he turns and meets Diomedes’ eyes, expression calm and patient.

“Diomedes, he knew exactly what he was doing, talking like that. He knew he’d had achieved more from me by insulting me than by pleading and begging”

Diomedes clicks his mouth shut, surprised, but at the same time not looking as surprised as Theo thought. Diomedes looks like Scott, yes, but he’s not as naïve – and he’s best friend with Odysseus, so he’s bound to have already seen him act seemingly out of place, but for a precise reason. Theo chuckles bitterly, shakes his head. He looks down, shuffles his feet. Dust covers his sandals and Diomedes’ but he can still see the red staining Diomedes’ greaves.

“I’ll talk to Achilles, but I can’t promise you anything”

Diomedes opens his mouth, obviously close to object that he doesn’t have much to do with Odysseus request, but then clicks it immediately after, at the way Theo’s glare. The warrior nods, eyes pleading.

“You’re a good man, Patroclus” he says, placing a solid hand on Theo’s shoulder. Theo chuckles bitterly and shakes his head.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know that. People weren’t talking that well about me when I left home” he comments, breaking character.

Diomedes frowns: “What do you mean? You’re Achilles’ squire, and everyone knows that he wouldn’t be as great as he is without you. Sure, a strong fighter, but not a prince”

Theo frowns: “He’s the best of us, Diomedes” he argues.

Diomedes smiles softly: “No, my friend. He is the strongest of us. His mother gave him that strength. But you? You taught him to be human. You are what made him the prince he is”

Diomedes left shortly after that, Theo walking somberly back to Achilles’ tent. Diomedes’ words mull in his head. He knows how true they are in Achilles and Patroclus’ case, but he can’t help wondering if they apply also to him and Liam. Sure, in their case, Theo isn’t that much of an expert being human – but, since he’s been back from Hell, he’s worked hard on keeping Liam from acting on his anger.

‘Does it count as the same?’

He finds Liam talking to Alcimus and Automedon by the corral of the divine horses. Balius and Xanthos aren’t paying them attention, but they keep closer to Achilles, in reach. If he wanted to touch them, he would just have to extend his arm.

Alcimus and Automedon have their back to Theo. They don’t notice him approaching, not before Liam has already made eye contact with him, over their shoulders. He realizes something is wrong, and the smile vanishes from his face in a flash. The boys are confused at first, but then they follow his look, turn, and find Theo, standing close, expressionless, holding Achilles’ eyes.

“I need to talk to you” Theo says, straight to Achilles’ face.

Liam knows what’s coming. He nods.

‘Doesn’t mean he likes it, though’ Theo thinks.

Liam gestures with an extended arm in direction of the tent. Theo heads that way, Liam following close by. He hears him muttering something to his attendants and they don’t follow.

Theo enters the tent, looks around. He doesn’t know what to do. He thinks he should sit down, think, consider his options. He doesn’t really have any, this is the part where he dies, and he doesn’t have any alternative, he has to go through this.

But his courage fails him, and he almost feels tears forming in his eyes.

‘I don’t want to die, not even if it’s not a real death’ he thinks, suddenly aware of how afraid, how despaired he is.

He remembers Tara ripping his heart out, he remembers his eyes closing, sight fading, dying repeatedly and repeatedly. He doesn’t want to die again – what if he’ll wake up down there, in his Hell made of Tara and the morgue and his heart being ripped out in loop?

A strong, warm hand touches him on his shoulder. Theo almost startles, fights against the urge to turn and dive into Liam’s chest, his open arms. He steels himself, his claws coming out from his nail beds for the first time since waking up in this world. They sting the palms, where they pierce the skin.

Liam smells the blood and winces. His hands slip down, sneak around Theo’s chest, close on his stomach. He steps closer to Theo’s back, aligning his front with his rear completely, pressing up against Theo almost as if he wanted to mould himself into him. He rests his head on Theo’s shoulder, placing a soft kiss through his tunic.

Theo forces himself to breath regularly, calming his heartbeat to normality. He’s still scared. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to leave Liam. He doesn’t want to wake up in Hell again. He doesn’t want to leave Liam here.

And at the same time, Liam’s presence grounds him, comforts him, a reminder that he knew this, he knew this was coming. And, as Theo knew, so does Liam. Who reeks of fear, pain, and sorrow just like Theo. The back of his tunic is damp, exactly where Liam’s face is. Theo grabs Liam’s hands, where they cling to his pecs, and intertwines their fingers. He bends his head and raises them, kissing Liam’s strong fingers. He turns, feeling numb as he moves, and Liam engulfs him in a tight, ribs-cracking hug.

Theo hugs back, eyes closed, resting his head on top of Liam’s, kissing his hair.

“We knew this moment would come” he whispers, after a while.

He retreats only enough to look at Liam in his eyes. The blue eyes that are filled with tears, streaming uncontrolled down his cheeks. Liam is afraid. So is Theo. Maybe they can keep each other strong, he thinks, attempting a smile and pushing Liam’s chin up with the tip of his finger.

“Odysseus asked me to fight with your armor. Lead the myrmidons pretending I’m you”

Liam nods. He smiles, mirroring Theo, but that makes more tears slide from his eyes.

“We knew” he repeats, nodding.

Theo nods as well.

“We did. I have to do this”

‘I have to die’ is what he means.

“I don’t want you to” Liam says, smile vanishing: “I don’t want you to do it. I don’t want you to die. I don’t want you to leave”

Words rush out of Liam’s mouth, and, once again, Theo is afraid he will hear those words – the ones he’s not ready to hear, probably never will. He presses forward and silences Liam with a chaste kiss. Liam sobs against his mouth but lets Theo distracts him with the kiss.

His hands buried in Theo’s hair, Liam kisses back. When he stops he rests his forehead against Theo’s, eyes closed. His breathing slows down, goes back to normal. He looks up into Theo’s green eyes, and smiles bitterly.

“Oh man, we’ve got it really bad, uh” he whispers.

Theo’s smile dies. He ignores those words. He kisses Liam’s forehead: “I have to do this. I’m… not exactly looking forward to it, but I have to” he repeats, trying to convince himself.

Liam nods. He knows.

“You shouldn’t challenge Mason. Engage the Trojans but not Hector. Leave him to me. Just come back, right after you’ve chased them far from the ships”

Theo smiles, sad. He’s tempted to do it. Tempted to listen to him.

“Liam, this is my trial. This is what I have to do. You know it. I have to fight Hector, and Mason will kill me” he points out.

Liam closes his eyes, looks away.

“Liam” Theo insists, waiting until Liam is holding his gaze again: “I have to do this. Not just for the trial. This is the only way I can atone for what I’ve done to Mason. You understand that, don’t you?”

It hasn’t taken that long for Theo to figure it out. It doesn’t take Liam long, either. The witch, Thetis, has a very peculiar sense of justice, or humor. Whatever it is, Theo dying at the hands of Mason’s new identity even makes sense.

Liam nods. He kisses Theo’s cheek.

He looks at him, hard, and this time, Theo doesn’t try to stop him.

“I will come back to you, after my part is done, too. I will see you again” he swears.

Theo knows what the blue eyes are telling him.

‘I love you. I will come back to you. I will find you. We will be together soon, and we will both be alive’.

He nods.

They send Automedon to Odysseus’ tent right after. Liam goes over his memories of the fight between Patroclus and Hector, tries to remember which hits Theo should expect, what kind of pain he should brace for. Theo only knows that someone will drive a spear through his stomach, and then, once he’s flat on his back, exposed to his enemy, Mason, as Hector, will plunge a second spear into him, killing him.

Theo exhales hot air, trying to keep calm. He strives for lucidity, but it’s not easy, knowing he’s going to die. He’s literally walking to his death. From some point of views, it has sort of already happened, but this time he knows.

At least, he knows he will wake up. In Beacon Hills. The real world.

Without Liam.

This fake reality suddenly looks like heaven, a safe place that he doesn’t want to leave. And yet.

Automedon comes back, panting. He’s run all the way from Odysseus’ tent. The king of Ithaca explains he will join them soon, with Diomedes, Menelaus, Nestor. They can come up with a plan, he promises.

Theo knows Odysseus means well – he doesn’t want Patroclus to die. But at the same time, Odysseus knows well that, if Patroclus dies, then they will finally get Achilles back. There is no real downside for him, in this scheme of things.

Theo understands. He likes Odysseus even more, even if he feels played by him.

Liam, instead, he doesn’t appreciate. He’s tempted to refuse. In the end he accepts only because of the way Theo looks at him. Guarded, expressionless.

“Tell them to hurry” Liam commands to Automedon, and the boy rushes away.

The warriors arrive shortly after. They try to cheer Patroclus and Achilles up, but Achilles is moody, angry, and they don’t understand why Patroclus looks like he’s consciously walking to his death. Diomedes even tries to make a joke to lighten the mood, hugs Patroclus in a way that can only be described as ‘the bro hug’. Patroclus tries to smile, if only to sooth Achilles’ fury.

When the warriors leave, Theo realizes that Liam is trembling.

“Liam” he says, taking Liam’s hands into his own: “Liam, stay calm”

“I can’t” Liam answers, frantic blue eyes meeting Theo’s: “He’s so angry. He’s afraid. He… he doesn’t want Patroclus to die, either”

Theo sighs, hugs Liam as tight as he can. He kisses him, chaste, and then decides, fuck it, this is it, this is my last chance. If we don’t get to have this in Beacon Hills, then at least I will leave this world knowing I’ve had something good.

‘For once in my life, I’ll know I’ve loved’ he thinks.

Liam moans, surprised, at the sudden way Theo’s kisses turn insistent. At the way his hands close possessively on his skin, pushing him towards the bed. As soon as he understands what Theo has in mind, he enthusiastically gets on board with the idea, pinning Theo under himself, slipping through his spreading legs. They kiss and rut, Theo moaning into Liam’s mouth, biting his lip and gritting his teeth when Liam kisses his way down his neck, his pecs, tongues at his nipples.

Liam straddles him, taking again both their erections together, safely enclosed in one hand, and jerks them both into complexion. Theo arches his back under his ministration, and, when he comes, he almost blacks out, whispering Liam’s name, Achilles’, then Liam’s again.

Liam paints him white, looks at him still panting, coming down from his pleasured haze, spreads semen on Theo’s chest. Writes his own name. They laugh at that, Theo’s abs shaking under his fingers, semen cooling down on his heated skin.

They sleep together, spooning, Theo’s head nestled behind Liam’s shoulder.

The day after, Theo wears Liam’s armor, and goes to the battle that he knows will be his last.

Theo finds it very ironic that the day he’s walking to his death the sun is as bright as ever, the sea a luminous, smooth table of blue vastity, the waves calm and lazy. The exact opposite of how he feels. The comparison is even more extreme, if instead of his own mood he confronts it with Liam’s.

The blond boy is restless. He can’t even force tense smiles on his face anymore, and there is a haunted look in his eyes, in the way his jaw tightens and clenches. His nimble fingers help Theo wearing his armor, Automedon and Alcimus keeping smartly out of the way. Automedon waits by the chariot, ready, Balius and Xanthos only waiting for Patroclus to lead the chariot to the battlefield.

The myrmidons are a throng of armed people, quiet under the sun, waiting in coiled tension, not daring hoping this is the day they can go back to the fight they came here from Phthia. Achilles mounts his ship, gives a speech that inflames them. The warriors shout, war cries. They don’t need to be rallied but any word coming from the demigod they call prince sets them on fire.

Theo and Liam make eye-contact, knowing it’s for the last time in this world. Theo nods. So does Liam. Then Theo turns to the crowd, and leads the myrmidons onto the battlefield.

Theo has taken part to battles, has fought his way out of many nasty situations when he’s doubted he’d actually make it. But a battlefield like this is an entirely different thing. He’s not used having to keep to the chariot, for starters, but that’s not too difficult to get accustomed to. You need to pay attention the ride won’t jostle you from out the chariot, but, beside that, it’s actually safer than engaging close combat – the chariot’s borders keep you safe up to your chest.

Around him, the myrmidons scream and shouts, the typical noise of war. Led by Patroclus, they fight every Trojan hero on their path. The rest of the Greek army sees them, sees Patroclus, wearing Achilles’ shield, his cuirass, they think the hero of the heroes has come back, has rejoined the battle. And the way Theo fights, it really looks like Achilles is back. Patroclus gives his two hundred percent.

Theo tries not to think how many people he’s killing.

And then, there it is: the spear, coming out of nothing, pushed hard through the impenetrable cuirass Achilles’ wears. It breaks the metal and the bones, jostles Theo out of the chariot with the violence of the hit, and flattens him on the dusty ground. He barely has the time to crawl out of the way of the chariots of those following him. He pants, hands madly clutching at the shaft of the spear. It’s bloody and slippery. He can feel the metal tip caressing his heart at his every movement.

He tries to yank it out, and the pain is unbearable. Even worse than Tara slamming her claws through his ribcage. Hector approaches, the telltale dust setting when he slows down. He dismounts his chariot, grabs a spear someone is offering him. The Trojans around them cheer their prince, shouting that he kills Achilles.

Theo stops fighting. He lies on the ground, fingers bloody and breath shaky, undoes his helmet. It falls off and reveals Patroclus’ head. The Trojans shout in shock and outrage, but not Hector. A cruel smile twists his lips.

Mason looms over him, spear in his hand, raising his arm.

“I knew you couldn’t be him” he says.

Theo would nod if he could, but the pain keeps him still. He knows what’s coming, so maybe it’s fear, too. He holds Mason’s eyes, his lips moving. He tries to call Mason by his name, but he can’t. Hector smiles cruelly, in satisfaction. The prince who’s lost so much, who sleeps every night worrying for the life of his people, his father, his wife and son. Theo understands Hector so much it’s crazy. Especially since coming back from Hell.

‘It’s nice, having something to fight for beside your own life, uh?’ he asks himself.

Patroclus whimpers, the pain unbearable for his human soul. Theo clenches his teeth, to keep the sound caged in the back of his throat.

Hector raises his spear and bends forward, to look Theo in the eyes as he delivers the fatal hit. Theo’s eyes are wide, but not in fear. He tries to speak, tries to call Mason’s name. he wonders if it would be better let him be, instead of waking Mason’s conscience from the dream of being the eldest son of Troy.

Hector’s eyes suddenly are empty, cold. The dark irises are widened, the pupils dilate.

“You” he whispers, bending down, the spear touching the ground again with its bottom: “I always thought it’d be Achilles’, the face I would see in my dreams, when I dream of dying. But I see yours, instead. And yet, you’re here. You’re going to die, by my hand. I wonder. How can it be, that I dream of you, killing me?”

Hector blinks, his hand falling on Theo’s chest, pressing close to the wound. Theo’s breathing catches, the chimera grits his teeth against the sudden rush of pain. He holds Hector’s curious gaze, recognizes the telltale signs of Mason’s conscience, stirring.

He opens his mouth, tries to speak. Hector frowns in contempt, stands, raises his spear.

“Mason” Theo whispers.

The metal tip of the spear breaks the bones of Theo’s chest, plunges in, ripping at his heart. Too many vital organs damaged, half the heart already gone. Theo is suddenly too numb to even feel the pain.

Hector blinks, suddenly afraid. His hand is still closed around the spear killing Theo, but he kneels, his eyes water, his face his stricken by terror.

“Theo” he whispers: “Theo!”

“Shht, it’s ok” Theo can only whisper, blood almost choking him.

“It’s ok” he repeats.

Mason’s tears are hot when they fall on his skin, but Theo doesn’t feel them anymore.

Everything is going dark.

“Theo, I’m sorry” Mason cries, cradling the side of his head, his fingers spreading dust on Theo’s cheek, and are stained by Theo’s blood.

“Shht. It’s ok. I’m sorry, Mason. I’m... I’m sorry” he whispers, so softly Mason almost doesn’t hear.

Patroclus closes his eyes, the human soul ready to die, pain and sorrow, because he’s made a promise to Achilles, and he won’t come back to him, won’t have the chance to go back to live it.

“Achilles” the human boy whispers, before dying.

Theo, before following him in death, eyes closed, breathes, and roars.

When the roar quietens, it’s echoed by another one, stronger, torn by pain, a thundering promise of death, from the Greek ships.

Liam’s roar is a punch to Mason’s conscience, and he slips away, fading again under the new, dominating identity of the strong prince he is. Hector stands, pushes all his weight on the spear that pins Patroclus’ dead body to the ground. Then he turns and leaves, too shaken to go fighting. Even if he was so close to win.

A Greek arrow almost reaches him. He dodges at the last moment. He turns, eyes glaring at the Greek multitude. He unsheathes his sword and screams in rage.

‘If the Greeks want death, then death is what I’ll give them’.

He doesn’t hear the pleading voice in the depth of his soul, begging him to stop.

Achilles is lost.

The fury of the warrior cannot be contained, and Liam roars again, torn by pain that translates into rage.

He knew this was going to happen. He knew. Achilles didn't. He refused to hear whatever Liam has been whispering to the darkest, deepest corners of their shared mind. And now he's even more torn, because he somehow knew. He knew that he was sending Patroclus to die, before himself. He hates Liam for telling him, and for not being able to stop it.

Liam hates himself, for daring hoping he could stop it. For daring listening to the vain hopes of his warrior new self. The pain that tears him from the inside feels like claws in his gut.

He realizes he's really hoped, till the last moment, till that horrifying moment when he's heard Theo's roar, and most importantly, when he's stopped. 

That's when Liam has realized how hard and deeply he'd been hoping the witch wouldn't ask him this. Wouldn't asked Theo to die. 

He roars against her, too. He hates her so much right now, for playing with him, with Theo, with their friends. For pretending she really is a goddess. Liam hates this world, right now, this faked world that till the day before he wished to keep living in. 

"Why did you give me him, only to take him away so soon right after?" he screams, tears blinding him. He jumps down the ship, lands on his feet but falls on his hands and knees. He roars again, shouting against the witch, Hector, the poem, even Theo. And mostly himself.

He staggers on his feet, stands, storms to the sea. He roars and shouts Thetis' name. He doesn't even know how to call her, Theo has always been the one wearing her gifted bracelet. He roars again, and notices a gleaming presence on his wrist.

The bracelet.

‘I didn’t even realize Theo slipped it on me’ he thinks. 

It looked elegant and solid on Thetis' arm, and elegant and thin on Theo's. It should have made Theo look ridiculous, wearing a clearly feminine piece of jewelry, and instead it has looked always precious, like the gift of a divinity it was. Now, wrapped around Liam's bulky wrist, it looks absolutely out of place. 

Despite all his anger, and Achilles’, layered one over the other, Liam reaches the sea and then deflates. He falls on his knees, sobbing, his finger tracing madly the diameters of the bracelet. He whispers Thetis name and then screams it, tearing at the fearful silence that has fallen on the camp.

On the battlefield, the Greeks protect Patroclus’ body, fight hard to keep the Trojans to get to Achilles’ armor and defiling the body wearing them. Liam knows, because he’s read this part, he remembers the poem – he knows Menelaus and Ajax the Greater will be wounded but they will bring Patroclus’ body back.

Right now, he doesn’t care.

He wants revenge.

He wants the game to end. Even if it means killing Hector, and, with him, Mason. He wants to wake up, wants Mason to look at him and be sure it’s Mason, not a killing machine, not a prince, his Mason. And Most importantly, he doesn’t want to look at Patroclus’ dead body and wonder if Theo is alright, if he’ll see him again, if in the real world they will still feel the feeling Theo has never let Liam name.

“Thetis” he whispers, his voice raspy and throat hurting: “mother. Thetis”

She appears.

She’s not smiling. Her black dress and dark hair are still beautiful as ever, but the beautiful smile is gone from her lips. Her expression matches her eyes, now, the cold and dark that has always nestled in there.

Silent, she watches, looking at him.

Liam smirks: “At least you’re not gloating” he says, with his croaky voice.

She doesn’t smile even.

“Liam, this part isn’t easy for me as well” she replies.

Liam scoffs. Anger boils inside him. He closes his eyes.

“Do not” he growls, flashing yellow eyes at her: “do not pretend like you care”

Thetis doesn’t argue, but her eyes are stormy.

“You know what I’m going to ask you. Bring me an armor” he orders.

Her jaw clenches, she considers speaking, insult him, demanding deference. But she doesn’t.

“You are clouded by your grief, you don’t see. But if you think I have enjoyed watching him die, then you’re not as smart as I believed” she says, in the end.

She vanishes.

Liam waits there, until Alcimus runs to his side, and, voice trembling, tells him that the Greeks have brought Patroclus’ body back.

Another tear rolls down Liam’s cheek, and he nods, stands, follows him to the place the warriors are laying the body. Someone has closed Theo’s eyes: he looks almost asleep, if Liam ignored the blood clogged around the wound still open on his chest. He lays on the inside of Ajax’ big, squared shield, and Liam falls to his knees again.

Someone, a voice, around him, whispers that a goddess has come to Achilles’ tent and has left a golden set of armor. 

Liam’s jaw clenches, his fingers tremble. He doesn’t dare touch Theo.

‘I will wake up. He’s not dead. He’s just woken up. I’ll wake up too. I’ll see him again’ he thinks, madly, in loop.

He stands, he turns. He walks to his tent and wears his armor. Automedon helps him with trembling eyes and fingers. Alcimus is already on the chariot, waiting for him.

When Liam comes back, he doesn’t know how many men he’s killed. He doesn’t know how long the god of the river has had him run, on the plain the Scamander almost submerged, punishing Achilles for clogging its waters with the bodies of too many Trojans.

The massacre rivals even Hector’s worst one. It lacked any finesse, even sense. The Greeks following Achilles looked at him in horror and fear.

Iphis walks silently close to Liam, kneels, showing him a small bowl of water and a cloth, quietly asking permission to help him clean his hands and arms. He doesn’t even nod, but keeps still as she sets to work.

Odysseus walks in the tent, unannounced. Alcimus and Automedon were too afraid to step inside.

“Agamemnon apologizes, Achilles. Briseis is here” he quietly, simply explains.

Beside him, Malia finds Liam’s hollow eyes.

She takes a long breath, doesn’t lower her eyes, keeps holding Liam’s haunted stare.

“Leave” she commands, to everyone. Odysseus, shocked, turns to her with a stunned eypression. She doesn’t leave Liam’s eyes, but she repeats, her voice almost a growl: “all of you. Now. Leave”

They do. Odysseus huffs silently, but leaves. Iphis worriedly glances between Malia and Liam, then takes her leave, as well.

“Tell me I’ll see him again” Liam whispers, broken, blue eyes lost in Malia’s dark ones.

Malia zeroes the distance separating them, engulfs in a tight hug, Liam reciprocating. He closes his eyes, sobs quietly in her shoulder.

“Please, tell me I’ll see him again” he begs again.

Malia kisses his hair, caressing his back. She makes small hushing sounds as Liam cries.

“You’ll see him again” she whispers, after a long time.

The next day are dedicated to Patroclus’ funeral. Agamemnon comes to Achilles’ tent, proclaiming they should put their scorn aside and win this war. He gifts Achilles with gifts that are meant to underline his worth, sooth his pride. But he can’t bring Patroclus back, and Liam hates him for that.

They organize the games to commemorate Patroclus. Achilles doesn’t take part to any. Diomedes wins the footrace – it almost makes Liam smile, because Theo has joked about the guy being the fastest after Achilles.

Diomedes wins Iphis in the war. She is passed over to her new king, her eyes big. She casts worried glances Malia’s way. Her pregnancy is obvious, by now. Diomedes promises Achilles that he will honor Patroclus’ child.

Liam nods, suddenly feeling cold.

That evening, in the tent, Malia almost slaps him.

“You’re being stupid about something” she accuses him.

He snarls at her: “Why was she pregnant?”

Malia frowns: “Liam, you know how sex works, don’t you?”

Liam roars again, in frustration: “I thought… I thought Theo…” and he stops.

Malia mellows, shakes her head.

“Liam, Iphis has clearly been pregnant for a long time. That child isn’t Theo’s. It’s Patroclus'” she answers.

Liam’s anger still doesn’t set. He looks at her with stormy eyes.

“How can you be so sure?”

She rolls her eyes, raises, makes to leave. She stops on the threshold of the tent.

“If you think Theo has ever seen anyone like he’s seen you during our time here, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, this was supposed to happen. Oh man, next chapter is going to be a nightmare. For me, to finish writing. For you, I promise it'll be good. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think so far.


	6. The End of The Game

Theo floats, his senses numb. He is aware the time is passing, slipping past him, but he doesn’t know how much, how fast it goes. He can’t wake up, and he can’t think. He only knows that he is floating, his senses reduced to useless, worse than when he was human. He floats into nothing until his own existence becomes nothing.

And then, lost in the golden-looking fog of clouds that coma is, in that half-dreamy dimension where everything is and feels grey, he hears a whisper, the tiniest sound.

‘Achilles’ a voice whispers.

The voice feels foreign, the more so, the more Theo remembers being Theo, having a body, hands, a blood-stained soul, but made dirty by different kind of deeds than Patroclus, the hero, needed to worry for.

‘Liam’ he thinks.

He wakes up.

The first sense coming back to him is smell, his brain recognizing the scents laced in the air he breathes. They flood his memory, jostling his consciousness suddenly into wake and alertness. He opens his eyes and pushes himself up on his elbows with a soft gasp. He lifts one hand, shields his eyes and blinks at the light, the rays of sunset falling directly on his face.

He struggles to calm his heartbeat and breathing, taking in the room and the people around him. Many faces, frantic expression, but nobody speaks. Everyone is looking at him: Lydia, Corey, Argent. Who is back, obviously, and looks Theo’s way with the jaw-clenched expression he has whenever he’s focused and holding himself still, ready for action.

Close to Lydia and Corey, Scott is kneeling at the edge of a shiny-looking, transparent ball of sparkling nothing.

‘Magic’ his head supplies. It must be the barrier the witch mentioned, Theo realizes.

Scott is looking at him with an expressionless face, which isn’t something he would have ever expected from the clumsy, too-genuine for his own good alpha. A door bangs open, a loud voice filling the silence, and Stiles appears from the entrance door. The sudden motion attracts the attention of many, Theo’s included.

Stiles closes the door behind himself and holds Theo’s gaze: “So, the revenant, he who lives again and shouldn’t. You’re awake” he declares, his voice bordering between sassy and apprehensive.

Theo swallows. He doesn’t want to hear about his past, not even in the implicit, hidden form of Stiles’ sarcastic comments. He doesn’t want to think about that, not right now, when his memories are still spinning, not finished resetting after being implanted with those of Patroclus’ entire life. They’re purging the Greek hero’s life off of Theo, as bleach does with a particularly persistent fungus. And all Theo is left is the murderous, ruthless chimera he’s spent most of his life being.

He looks away from Stiles and refuses to look at Scott. His eyes continue moving rightwards until they fall over Liam’s prone, still sleeping body. He gasps and rushes forward, kneeling at his side. He hesitates, his hand lingering in the air over the blond werewolf boy.

In the silence of the room, the quiet sound of his movements echoes.

He shouldn’t be surprised about knowing that the look on Liam’s face is wrong, shouldn’t be surprised by how he knows the way Liam really looks when he is actually sleeping, not just under a spell.

He swallows, delicately sliding his hand past the long blond hair and feeling Liam’s pulse. He doesn’t have to – he can hear the steady, soft sound of Liam’s beating heart, he could focus on it and get lost into its rhythm, doesn’t need to press the pads of his fingers over Liam’s pulse to check. But he does it anyway, and then looks at the sleeping boy’s face. He swallows again, biting his lower lip.

He hopes Liam is well. He prays that he can handle Achilles’ fury. He swallows and forces himself to breath slowly through his nose.

‘Exhale air, inhale, good job, nose’

Again, the scents of the rest of the scents of each member of the McCall pack assaults his brain, a rush so intense that it almost feels like a punch in the face. The image makes Theo think of Liam – and a tiny smile is forced out of him, as he looks at Liam’s sleeping form.

He traces the line of his arm with the hand still hovering over Liam, and takes his still, warm hand into his.

He shouldn’t worry. Liam can do this. He can play his part of the trial.

“Theo” Scott’s voice snaps Theo back to reality, his neck twisting automatically towards the source of the voice.

Scott is looking at him with caution and apprehension, not bothering hiding anymore how nervous he is, seeing Theo inside a magic barrier that only him, and Liam, can enter. Liam, Scott’s only beta, who lies unconscious on the floor and might be trapped in a dream world. Scott’s protectiveness over Liam is only natural, and plenty justified by the fact that Theo has been dangerous to Liam, and the rest of them, for a long time. Theo isn’t surprised and shouldn’t feel even the tiniest bit of hurt. Not even the small amount he does feel.

He swallows, holding eyes under Scott’s gaze, and nods imperceptibly. As if to say, I’m here, I’m listening.

“Are you alright?” Scott asks, palpably looking for something to say and not sure what he should settle for. He doesn’t really want to know about Theo’s – or, better, he might, but he wouldn’t care much past the point of what he can see with his own eyes, that Theo is alive and breathing. Theo really doesn’t blame the guy if that’s the maximum extent Scott would worry for him. Given their past, it’s already caring too much.

“I’m fine” Theo answers, honest. His voice is a tad croaky, after one and a half day of not using it. His eyes dart outside, through the window where the curtains are open: yes, it’s sunset. As Thetis has predicted, Theo has left the Iliad world mid-way through their trail, after one day and a half have passed in the real world.

Scott hesitates, stumbling over words he thinks and doesn’t want to say.

“Was… was your part of the trial already over?” he asks in the end.

Theo almost lets out the small ‘oh’ sound of surprise the question pulls out of him. He smiles reassuringly and nods, looking only at the alpha. He clears his throat and straightens, sitting with his legs crossed onto the thick carpet. His knee almost touches Liam’s arm.

“Yes. Don’t worry. It’s going well. At least, it was until I had to leave” he assures.

“What do you mean, until you had to leave?” Stiles asks, his voice for once empty of threats or innuendos. Theo muses if the expressionless tone, stripped of sarcasm, is a skill the guy is picking up with the FBI. It’s a good thing, actually.

Theo looks around, at the faces of the people staring at him. Then he realizes they have no idea where he and Liam had been for the past day and a half – a week or so, in the Iliad world.

“Right. Sorry. I was… The witch, the world she brought us to. It’s the Iliad” he explains.

Corey and Scott frown. Lydia and Stiles widen their eyes. The same thing does Peter Hale, a few steps behind Stiles, his blue eyes focused entirely on Theo.

“The Iliad?” Scott repeats, unsure.

“Greek poem about the war of Troy, the story of Achilles’ fury almost cost the Greeks the lives of their entire army, then he changed his mind and saved the day? That Iliad?” Peter asks, pressing.

Theo nods.

Stiles throws a confused glance first Peter’s then Theo’s way: “I thought the Iliad was the one where the guy tries to go back home and spends ten years navigating through the entire Mediterranean Sea?”

“That’s the Odyssey” Lydia replies, her voice clipped, eyes never leaving Theo: “Why the Iliad?”

Theo shrugs: “I don’t know. But we were all there. I guess she just likes it. Playing goddess, I mean”

He really hasn’t thought about asking. Liam hasn’t thought about it either, too busy nerding out on the fact that they were in the actual Greek poem. An involuntary smile creeps up his face, and Scott raises an eyebrow, noticing.

Theo shakes his head: “It’s just… I haven’t thought about asking why. And Liam was all too happy about being in actual ancient Greece to ask” he explains.

There is a simultaneous snort of affection from Scott, Stiles and Lydia.

“So, what is the trial, what does it exactly consist of?” Stiles asks, stepping closer to Scott and Lydia. Corey shifts, making space for him to join them at the edge of the magic sphere, but Stiles motions him to stay. He steps behind the alpha and the banshee, eyes set on Theo’s.

“What did you have to do?” he asks again, with that expressionless, not exactly polite tone of his, that is still better than his usual snarky tone.

“We got parts to play” Theo answers: “Mine finished earlier, my character died, and I was sent back here. Liam… he has to go on playing, alone” he adds, after a small hesitation. He makes eye-contact with Scott and recognizes the smell of worry coming from him.

“But Malia is with him and I made sure she remembers who we are, who she is, before dying. So he’s got her” he quickly adds in assurance.

The alpha hums quietly.

“What is her role?” Peter steps closer, not bothering to hide how his daughter is his main priority.

Theo bites the inside of his cheek: “She’s Briseis. But she can play out of character, so… she can do whatever she wants”

Peter snorts: “So she doesn’t have to sleep with Liam? Nice to know”

Scott turns to look at him bewildered: “Excuse me?!”

Peter smirks, vaguely amused, pointedly ignoring Scott: “What is she doing there?”

Theo equally ignores Scott’s shocked expression: “She stays mostly with the women, or in the infirmary. Sometimes she helps the younger warriors training”

Peter’s smirk turns into a warmer smile of affection, but his eyes are colder, filled with frustrated desire to protect his only daughter. He’s afraid for her, understandably.

“Ok, guys, I think I need a recap. I don’t remember anything… no, actually, I’m pretty sure I know basically nothing of the Iliad” Scott interrupts.

“It’s one of the most famous Greek poems, written, or, rather, sung, by a poet called Homer. At least according to the myth. It’s the story about the Greek army besieging the city of Troy, after Troy’s prince Paris kidnapped Menelaus’ wife, Helen, and brought her to Troy. The war lasts ten years” Lydia explains, gesturing vaguely with her hand: “All the famous Greek warriors joined, among which Achilles, and Odysseus. Yes, Stiles, the Odyssey is the story of Odysseus trying to go back to Ithaca”

Theo, hearing that last detail, snorts, suddenly feeling sorry for the Greek king: “And he won’t like it one bit. He can’t wait to go back home ASAP already” he mutters.

Lydia quirks an eyebrow: “Did you meet him? So you were in the Greek camp, then?”

He nods: “I…”

He’s about to say, ‘I was Patroclus’, but then he makes eye-contact with Peter and has to put all his efforts into not blushing. If he says that, he will draw a lot of attention on the fact that indeed, he was Patroclus, and Liam was, and is, Achilles, and the roles they were playing belonged to two people who are famous for being in love with each other.

And if he’s honest with himself… but no, he absolutely refuses to get into the loving thing: He knows that when he was there, when they were in the Iliad, he thought he was in love with Liam, but that could have simply been Patroclus loving Achilles. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t have to mean anything. And he definitely does not want to think about that now, under the scrutiny of the McCall Pack – Liam’s pack.

But, honestly, it’s very inconvenient, the fact that this is the moment when he remembers vividly how intimate he and Liam have been.

He swallows, and pulls his lips forward, repressing the fit of shame and ruthlessly calming his heartbeat. He knows the Hales can still detect the traces of embarrassment in his scent, but, hey, at least Scott won’t know.

“Liam is Achilles” he opts to say: “Malia, as I’ve already said, is Briseis. Achilles is the strongest warrior of the Greek army, half god, son of the sea-goddess Thetis… who’s the witch, by the way” he adds, speaking over Lydia, who’s muttering that Thetis wasn’t a goddess, but a sea nymph.

“She’s what?” Scott asks, double taking.

Stiles scoffs: “Well, that would give her a position of power, I’m sure. Being a goddess or nymph”

“She’s got a key role in the poem” Peter butts in: “she is the one who goes to the king of the gods, Zeus, asking him that the Trojans win the war while her son is out. When Achilles refuses to fight for the Greek army, after the Greek king insults him by taking Briseis from him. And later on, it’s Thetis who gives Achilles his new armor, when his first one is stolen by the Trojan when Patroclus dies”

He makes eye-contact with Theo, smirking in a way that makes Theo very uncomfortable.

“What about you?” Peter insists, innocent like he isn’t.

Theo swallows: “What about me?”

Could he lie to a room full of Hales, Scott, Argent and with Liam sleeping only millimeters away from his kneecap, with the fresh memory of the night before, the last he’s spent in the Iliad world, when he and Liam have gotten off together? Remembering the way Liam has kissed him into silence while he was jerking them both off?

‘Probably not’ he reasons, honestly.

But it makes no sense to tell the pack about that – not when Liam will never look at him the same way, once he’s back.

He’ll probably hate Theo for a while, too. Theo just hopes he’ll get over it, soon or later, and they’ll be able to hang out together again.

Liam fights well, and Theo has never had the pleasure of fighting side to side with someone.

“How about we keep the questions that make Theo uncomfortable for later and focus on the rest” Lydia suggests, turning to glare at Peter and then fully refocusing on Theo: “go on. What about Malia, you said she is Briseis? Achilles’ slave? Was she with king Agamemnon then?”

Theo nods: “Yes. But they must have given her back to Achilles by now, I think. Now that Patroclus…” he stops, faltering, blushing under the hard stare the Hales and, admittedly, Lydia too, are giving.

Even Argent is smirking at him. He clears his throat, trying to at least finish his sentence: “Uh, now that Patroclus is dead”

“What about Mason?” Corey asks, quietly.

Theo wonders if the chameleon knows he’s just saved him. Then he remembers what, and who, exactly Mason is, and what Liam will have to do. He grimaces and nods: “That’s more complicated. He is on the other side, with the Trojans. Melissa too” he adds, looking over at Argent.

He sighs: “That’s the part Liam doesn’t like about this game, I guess. Melissa is Hecuba, queen of Troy” he explains, towards Scott: “far away from the fight. But Mason…” he turns to Corey with an apologetic expression: “He’s Hector. He’s on the front line of the fight. And the only chance I had to talk to him and hopefully wake him up was… well…” he hesitates.

“When you died” Lydia offers, softly.

Theo nods: “I know he recognized me. But I don’t know what happened after. It looked like he was completely absorbed by Hector’s personality. I can’t say. It could be that he will snap back to reality only when Hector dies, and he will wake up once again as Mason only here” he reasons.

He looks deep into Corey’s eyes, voice reassuring: “It’ll be just like a bad dream for him. He’ll wake up, feel a bit shaken for a while, and then he’ll be ok”

Corey frowns, swallowing: “Why shaken?” he asks. Judging from his chemosignals, Corey already knows the answer, but still wants to hear it for sure.

“Hector is the main warrior in the Trojan’s army” Lydia explains: “If Mason is him, he’s probably killing a lot of people”

Theo somberly nods.

‘He’s also being incredibly good at it’ he doesn’t add.

His eyes mention enough, tough, considering the looks many faces in the room throw his way.

Scott sighs: “But, is he in danger?” he asks.

Theo shrugs, looking over at Peter Hale, of all people, in the hope to find some help. He can’t really explain this. Peter makes a face and exhales softly through his nose, and Theo lowers his eyes, looking for Lydia’s. She’s just finished rolling them when they meet Theo’s.

“Scott, Achilles kills Hector” she explains.

Stiles swears softly: “And I’m guessing Liam knows what he has to do”

Theo nods, face expressionless: “Achilles kills Hector, and dies later on. When Achilles dies, Liam will wake up and the game will be over” he confirms, trying to keep his voice as monotone as he can.

Stiles swears again, hands on his hips: “That witch is a real bitch” he comments.

Corey looks back at him, then at Theo. He swallows and nods. He looks scared, reeks of pain and fear, but his face doesn’t betray a sign of his emotions. Theo feels vaguely proud at the result.

“But Mason won’t be hurt, will he?” he asks: “as you said, it will be like a bad dream”

‘An incredibly vivid bad dream’ Theo thinks, without adding. Still, it’s not a lie, so it’s easy to keep his heartbeat steady as he nods.

Corey sighs, lowering his gaze. Scotts hugs him, sliding an arm over his shoulders and dragging him close to his chest. Theo averts his eyes, giving Corey the privacy he can when everyone with supernatural abilities can smell his tears.

“Theo, are you sure that if Liam can finish the game, everyone will wake up unharmed?” Argent steps forwards to ask.

Theo nods: “Yes. We have asked Thetis – I mean, the witch, and she has confirmed it. It will be like a dream for them. Maybe Malia will remember something, because she’s remembered the real world. Like I do”

He hesitates, fights down the blush again: “And, like Liam will, I assume” he adds.

Scott sighs: “Great, who doesn’t love remembering you had to kill someone who looks like your best friend”

Theo is this close to point out that actually, it’s not just someone looking like Mason, but that it will be Mason. After all, it’s extremely likely that Mason will revert back to his old self while dying.

Liam will never forgive himself for killing his best friend, not even in a fake reality, not even when he has to, to save everyone’s life.

Theo looks at Liam’s sleeping form, wondering again how the blond boy is faring. He finds small comfort knowing that at least Malia is around him, and can help. Theo has witnessed the fury Achilles is capable of, and doesn’t envy Liam for having to face it, added to his own anger.

‘I bet Liam won’t have as many problems controlling his anger, once he’s back’ he muses darkly.

“And Hector is Hecuba’s son” Argent comments, his voice sounding as if he’s thinking aloud. He shakes his head: “Melissa’s going to be thrilled too, about dreaming again of her dead son”

Scott and Theo make eye-contact.

Scott is again expressionless, Theo isn’t sure what is face says. He swallows, lowers his gaze, turns again to Liam. His hand moves without him knowing and caresses gently the inside of Liam’s wrist.

Before leaving for battle, Theo has slid Thetis’ bracelet on Liam’s wrist. The werewolf hasn’t even noticed, too focused on controlling the anger and the fear of knowing what Theo would have to do shortly after. It’s a good thing, Theo hopes, Liam having the bracelet. At least he can call Thetis easily, if he needs to.

Theo wonders on which side he’s wearing it. He thinks he’s put it on Liam’s left wrist.

“Ok, but, Theo” Derek breaks the sudden, heavy silence.

You don’t hear Derek’s voice all that often, and when you do, it always attracts the attention of anyone in the room. This time is no different, but what is, is the contract between his usual stoic, expressionless face and the hidden mirth in his blue eyes.

“This means that you were Patroclus, weren’t you?”

Theo bites the inside of his lower lip. He can’t do anything about the blushing, but he forces his heart to beat as steady and normal as ever, anyway.

“Yes” he answers, looking equally stoic as Derek – actually, more, considering the way a sly grin is opening on Derek’s face. Peter, at his left, grins too. Argent, on his right, looks down to hide the same expression.

“Wait, wait a second” Stiles exclaims. He gapes suddenly and lifts two index fingers in the air, holding them as if they were weapons.

“Weren’t Achilles and Patroclus best buddies?” he asks, looking at the smirking Hales-Argent trio and then looking at Theo, who now really has to fight the urge to claw Stiles’ face to keep it shut.

“Yep” Lydia replies, popping the ending and pressing her lips together to keep from laughing.

Theo sizes Stiles with an unimpressed glare that translates into the coldest invite to drop the topic. Obviously, Stiles doesn’t.

“No, no, but, wait, weren’t they, like…” the human gestures wildly, moving the fingers in a rotatory way: “involved? As in, with each others? As in, lovers?”

Scott’s eyes widen slowly, a bit more the more is brain follows and registers Stiles’ words them.

By now, Theo is sure he’s blushing. He desperately holds on his glaring, dark face, fully aware that it’s either that or he’ll just hide his face behind his palms like a… well.

A teenage boy.

A teenage boy, in love.

“Oh” Scott murmurs softly, eye by now very wide, mouth closed in a ‘o’ and for some mysterious ways that Theo doesn’t understand, he’s blushing. Why would Scott be blushing, is the mystery here. Theo doesn’t want to see Scott blush. Scott doesn’t have a reason to blush. Theo has. Not Scott.

Has Scott done what Theo has done with Liam? No, so why is he blushing?

‘Oh my god’ he internally winces, covering it with an harder scowl.

Corey snorts, breaking the tension once again, and attracting most of the attention.

‘Thank you, Corey’ Theo thinks, not looking away from the Hales he’s still glaring to.

“I don’t see why that’s surprising. Have you guys never seen Theo and Liam together, before?” the chameleon asks, peeking from Scott’s shoulder and looking pointedly at Stiles.

Theo gapes, eyes stricken in shock and disappointment – he thought Corey was covering him!

“What?! Corey! That’s absolutely not the same thing!” he rushes to protest.

Corey turns, grinning madly at him: “It wasn’t, but it is now, isn’t it?” the chimera asks, smug.

Theo blushes so madly he almost wishes the ground would swallow him again.

In the Iliad, time runs differently. Theo doesn’t know how much has been since he’s died.

He rests his forehead against his kneecaps. He’s sitting outside, on the front stairs of the McCall household. The sky has turned dark: he can see some stars, but, with the light pollution of the modern world, it’s definitely a sad replacement. He longs to see a sky as starry as the one on the shores not far from Troy, and he half wishes he could run deep into the preserve, where he knows the sky would be almost like the one he misses.

The flimsy material of his t-shirt isn’t doing much to protect him from the cold. Another difference from the Iliad, he muses. There, it was summer, and the nights were almost as hot as the sunniest days. The breeze that came from the sea would be welcome, a relief. Now, the soft wind blowing over Beacon Hills gives his skin goosebumps and makes him shiver.

He keeps his eyes closed, trying to conjure the memory of Liam, the night before. After sex, because he can’t bear the memory of sex with him – and because he doesn’t really want to face the rush of lust that it would trigger, especially not with Liam’s pack in the house behind him, and with Liam’s sleeping body lying on the floor of the dining room.

He misses Liam, there’s no point beating around the bush. He misses Liam, and he would be so glad to have him here, even before the Iliad, when they would spar and break each other’s nose and claw each other’s clothes to pieces. He misses Liam, and he’s not even sure why.

He’s never missed anyone in his life. It’s been a very, very long time since the last time he remembers he did.

He misses the way Liam doesn’t always understand him, but gets him. He misses the way Liam doesn’t follow Theo’s reasoning, definitely doesn’t share the same view on many things, doesn’t strive for the same goals – but he still puts up with him, and still expects Theo to be better.

Like Liam doesn’t care that Theo has lived as a ruthless monster for years, he still expects him to be good, now. He expects Theo to help him and to want to do the good thing, and doesn’t bother hiding how he despises most of what Theo has done in his past.

Liam doesn’t justify Theo, never excuse any of his bullshits and always expects him to be good.

Most importantly, he doesn’t look at Theo as if he was broken, and irredeemable. The exact opposite, actually. He never thanks Theo for helping because he takes Theo’s presence for granted – and, in a way, Theo needs it. Theo needs to know that there is someone in this world who would not look at him and see only the ruthless beast, but also the boy, and expect him to act as a boy.

Even better, Liam expects Theo to not just act, but be that boy.

Theo grimaces, the smile sour, hidden against his jeans.

The night is cold, and Liam is not here.

Theo misses him like he’s never missed anything in his life.

What if Liam comes back and doesn’t want to see Theo anymore? After the Iliad, what if Liam comes back and feels ashamed at what they’ve done together? Like sure, Liam has admitted being bi, and Theo knows he’s hot, but, that doesn’t mean Liam has ever been attracted to him. So what if Liam comes back, without any trace of Achilles’ memories from his mind, and he can’t look Theo in the eyes after watching him cum?

Theo himself wonders how he can look the werewolf in the eyes, now that he knows the sounds he makes when he’s close, the way his body tastes, the way his pupils go wide and eat all the blue of the irises when Theo deepens the kiss.

He snorts softly to himself.

‘Liar’ he scolds himself: ‘you can’t wait for him to be back so that you can do it all again’

And it’s true. He misses Liam. He misses the way Liam makes him feel a real person, a teenage boy, human, not just a monster.

He misses the way Liam makes him feel in love.

Theo hears the footsteps on the other side of the door, hesitating, hand hovering over the knob. He clenches his fingers and beats his lashes faster, to keep down the tears.

The hinges creak slightly and the door opens, Theo’s nose catching Scott’s scent easily. He doesn’t move, his head still resting against his joined hands, his arms loosely hugging his legs.

Scott hesitates, looks at him in silence, then joins Theo on the step, sitting down close enough that he could easily bump into him. Theo keeps his head down, sure that the alpha won’t smell the tears because he hasn’t spilt them – and that’s a small mercy. If Scott were any better with scents, he still would, anyway.

“There’s a lot of starts tonight” he softly comments.

Theo can’t help the snort. He lifts his head, takes in the way Scott is pointedly looking up, nose in the air. Sure, for a normal night in Beacon Hills, there’s a lot of starts tonight.

Theo grimaces, bitter, almost angry at the starts.

“For Beacon Hills, yeah” he mutters, looking at the sky.

He knows Scott is glancing his way, but he doesn’t want to make eye-contact with him.

“I’m guessing you saw more, in the Iliad?” the alpha asks.

Theo hums in affirmation, his lips pressed firmly closed.

Scott nods: “I bet. Lydia said it’s in Turkey”

Theo snorts: “It’s also a couple of millennia back in time”

Scott chuckles, shakes his head: “Yes, she said that too”

They both looks at the stars in silence, for a while. Then Scott stands up, bending to place a warm hand over Theo’s shoulder. Theo startles, digs his clawless nails into the meat of his hands to keep himself from lashing out. Scott sees that but doesn’t comment, silently apologizing for startling him.

Their eyes meet, Scott looking down, Theo looking up. An angel looking down at the devil.

“Come on, let’s get inside, We can find you a place to sleep” Scott offers, straightening and gesturing with his head in direction of the door.

Theo blinks a couple of time, unsure what’s just happened. Then he clears his throat and stands, following Scott back inside.

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I’d rather keep an eye on Liam anyway, if that’s the same for you”

He knows how it sounds. He doesn’t care. He holds Scott’s eyes. The alpha hesitates, considers it. He wants to sleep close to Malia and his mother, but also feels the urge to stay close to his baby beta. And allowing Theo that close to Liam, with Liam defenseless…

Scott nods.

“Ok” he agrees. He bids Theo good night and leaves, disappearing up the stairs.

Theo walks silently in the dining room. The whole house is silent, full of supernatural creatures trying to sleep and humans stirring restlessly, most of them piled on any surfaces in the two rooms upstairs. Liam hasn’t moved, still under the shimmering dome of magic that protects him from the rest of the world.

Theo caresses the barrier, the magic accepting him and disappearing where he presses harder with his fingertips, allowing him in.

Liam is alone here. Theo hates the mere thought.

He steps inside the barrier, strips his clothes, piles them all to the side and shifts.

In the middle of the night Scott is woken by the urge to check on his young beta, and walks silently down the stairs, quietly sneaking to the dining room, where Liam still is, under the luminescent half globe that partially brightens up the dark room.

Under the magic barrier he finds a sleeping blond boy, his face relaxed in his state of unnatural sleep, and curled up next to him, equally asleep, a black wolf, its snout very close to the blond boy’s face, as if it fell asleep while staring at him.

Time is weird, in the Iliad.

When Theo was here, Liam could enjoy every moment, savor it, and time passed feeling normal to him. As if they still were in Beacon Hills.

It’s not the same, now, with Patroclus dead, and Theo gone. Liam wakes and doesn’t remember going to sleep. He wakes up and he’s in the middle of battle, his hands bloody and gore under his nails. He’s covered in blood from the tip of his fingers to his shoulders – Malia explains that it’s normal, after the disemboweling stunt Achilles has pulled.

Liam doesn’t believe her at first. She sits on Patroclus’ chair, sipping from a glass of mixed wine, and notices the way Liam is helplessly staring at his hands, covered in blood. She shrugs and explains it with a nonplussed voice, but her eyes are cold and careful – she’s never looked this much like Peter, Liam thinks.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice hoarse, his throat hurting. He brings unconsciously a hand towards it, frowning.

“You were screaming. I would whisper for the next half an hour or so. Your healing will have taken care of any damage you’ve inflicted to yourself by then” she answers.

Liam blinks owlishly at his hands, at the blood on his chest. He doesn’t even want to check the state his legs are in. He looks back at Malia, raising his eyebrows. She takes another sip and snorts, as if to say, what were you expecting.

“You’ve slaughtered about a hundred men, Liam. Alcimus was terrified. He said you gutted so many, you didn’t let go of their corpse until you had clawed enough of their organs out. It’s no surprise you’re still covered in it”

Liam shudders with horror, and almost feels his bile threatening to come up.

He staggers, brings his bloody hands to his equally bloody chest.

“But… wasn’t I wearing my cuirass, over?” he asks, dumbfounded.

Malia nods expressively: “Yes, Liam. You were” she confirms.

‘And you still got so much blood on yourself that it spilled under it’ is the part she doesn’t say, but her eyes speak loud enough that Liam hears it anyway.

She sighs and stands, shoving the glass against Liam’s chest: “Here, drink. And sit. I’ll have some water brought here for you”

She disappears beyond the door of the tent. Liam collapses on the chair, his hand automatically bringing the glass to his lips. He drinks with his eyes swelling up with tears.

‘Oh my god, what have I done?’ he asks himself, terrified.

He closes his eyes, tries to tune out anything but the smell of the wine, its taste.

Inside his head, Achilles’ fury is dormant, but he knows it won’t stay that way for long. The demi-god craves blood, and demands the death of the man who killed Patroclus. He won’t stop and he won’t slow down, until Hector consent to face him in a duel.

Liam knows how things will go.

He doesn’t even know if Achilles has already issued his challenge to Hector, but he knows the moment will come soon.

And then, he will have to fight against Mason, and kill him.

‘Yes’ a voice whispers inside Liam’s conscience: ‘but he’s not your friend. He’s the enemy. And he killed my Patroclus’

The tears freefall down Liam’s cheeks.

He wishes he had the strength to slow Achilles’ rage, to filter it, contain it.

But he can’t. Even at his angriest he has never faced this much rage. It terrifies him, it shocks him and leaves him breathless with fear. He tries to drink while sobbing and ends up choking, and that’s when Malia reappears, rushing to his side, hugging and gently patting at his back. He hides his face in her shoulder and hugs her back. Her clear-colored dress is smeared in blood. She takes the glass from him and passes it to a man, Liam doesn’t see who. She murmurs to the servants carrying the buckets full of water, has the bath ready for him. Then she shoos them, forcing Liam to stand, helping him strip down to nothing and pushing him in the tub.

The contact with water is a small shock. It brings up memories of Theo, and Patroclus. Seeing the water turn red triggers another sobbing fit out of Liam, and he simply sits there, in the tepid water, hugging his knees to his chests and his head resting on his bloody arms, Malia kneeling outside the tub, caressing his hair.

When the fit slowly recedes, it’s once again Malia the one who picks up a cloth and help Liam wash the blood away.

“Here, I’ll tell you a story. You better listen because I don’t know many, but those I do are great” she starts, voice grouchy and brusque, at odds with the care she pours in her movement.

Liam tries to control his breathing, and focuses on the sound of her voice as she starts telling her stories.

It happens and happens and happens and happens.

Liam wakes up, realizes Achilles is carrying their body around and slaughtering innocents, reaping down victims with the blade of his sword and fury. Liam isn’t sure he’s above using bare hands.

He wakes up in his tent, the lingering scent of Patroclus and Theo waking Liam’s memory up, Malia always there, silently waiting for him to snap back in control and then helping him, taking care of him. Liam ends up crying, kneeling in front of her standing form, his face hidden in her lap, more than once. The patience Malia shows would be surprising, if Liam could relax enough to feel surprise. If he could have a moment of peace in the emotional rollercoaster that he is on.

He can’t fight Achilles, but he doesn’t try much, admittedly. He tries to keep him down, to suppress him, but, once the Greek hero is out, Liam just sleeps. And in turns, when Achilles is tired, and exhausted, and can’t face the world, he switches off and Liam slips back in control.

Liam would hate him, if he wouldn’t understand him.

One time, Liam snaps back in control and find himself kneeling at Patroclus’ temporary funerary bed. Thetis has spelled Theo’s body – the body that Liam knows now belongs entirely to Patroclus and not to Theo, anymore, because Theo has woken up, in the real world, Thetis has confirmed it.

Thetis has spelled the body so that it stays untouched, preserved by magic. Achilles often comes here, kneels at Patroclus’ side, and just cries himself into unconsciousness. Liam wakes and finds himself with Patroclus’ cold hand under his face.

It would disgust him, if he wasn’t terrified by the extent of the pain Achilles feels.

“They want to burn the body. They say they should have burned the body, when they did the funeral games. They say this isn’t right, that it will anger the gods” Malia quietly mutters, behind him.

Malia is always there. Whenever Liam wakes up, she is always there.

Liam is afraid Achilles will lash out on her one day, but he can’t admit he’s not grateful, to have her there. To wake up and have a friendly face around, someone who knows he is Liam, not Achilles the warrior.

“I know” Liam whispers, his throat hurting once again.

‘Jesus. How much does this guy scream’ he thinks to himself, darkly.

Malia hums: “You’ve challenged Hector today” she informs him.

Liam sighs, sits back on his talons, putting some distance between him and Patroclus’ corpse.

He waits for the tears to come – and they do, after a while. They take longer, with the passing of time, but never fail to appear.

“Fuck” he swears.

Malia nods, humming. She places her hands on his shoulders: “Come. Let’s go back” she says, and Liam lets her steer him towards their shared tent.

The day comes when Liam doesn’t wake up alone, in his tent, or in front of Patroclus’ corpse, but in the middle of the battlefield. Only, there is only him, no one else. Just him, and the dying, agonizing figure that he’s keeping pushed down, against the dirt. The man is choking on his blood, his breath hitching at any jostling, tiny movement Achilles, now Liam, makes with his spear.

Liam looks at the warrior’s face, and sees the dark eyes of his best friend. Only this time there is a strange look in their eyes, none of the sympathy and affection that Liam has always seen in them. Just hate, fury, sadness.

Liam chokes on tears. The hand he’s keeping the spear with freezes that way, but his other one, covered in Hector’s blood – Mason’s blood, it darts down, caresses Mason’s sweaty cheek.

“Mason” he whispers, broken, through the tears freefalling.

Hector recedes, and Mason coughs, whimpers, the pain unbearable. He looks up and sees Liam, and beats his lashes in confusion and pain.

“Li… Liam” he tries to say: “Liam?”

“Ssht, sht, it’s ok. It’s ok, Mase” Liam shushes him, caressing him. He lets go of the spear, but it wobbles and hurts Mason, tearing a pained cry from him. Liam hurries to catch it again, if only to keep it still.

“Ssht, Mase, it’s ok. It’s just a bad dream. You’ll wake up, I swear, you’ll wake up. Soon” he promises, frantically whispering and leaning over Mason prone body.

Mason’s mouth moves, the words struggle to come out, his eyes say too many things at the same time.

“Liam, Theo… was Theo here? I.. I tried, Liam, the voice, I tried to stop him…”

“Shht” Liam presses a finger, covered in Mason’s blood, over Mason’s lips, to stop him from talking: “it’s alright. Theo has already woken up. He’s back to the real world. You’ll wake up, too. Don’t worry. Don’t worry”

Mason is paling by the minute, his lips going ashen, his eyes glassy.

“I tried… Liam, I tried to stop… was it the Beast? I tried to stop it… I swear, I tried…” he mutters, frantically now, afraid he won’t say enough.

Liam’s face collapses, eyes swollen with tears. He bends forwards, kisses Mason’s cheeks: “Shht, don’t worry Mason. I swear, it’s ok. It wasn’t the Beast. You did great, Mase”

Mason looks up at him, his scents turning sourer by the minutes. Liam feels Achilles stir in his mind, and cries harder, wanting to scream at him, why, why do you have to come back, leave me alone, my best friend is dying!

“Mason, Mase…”

Mason is dying, but he turns glassy eyes towards him. He lifts a hand and caresses Liam’s golden hair: “Liam, you’re my best friend” he whispers.

Liam breaks. He meant to ask for forgiveness, but he can’t. Mason dies, and Liam is shaken by sobs, he can’t bring himself to speak, and now it’s too late. Mason is dead.

Liam bends further, resting his face on Mason’s collarbone. He cries and cries, sobbing, not caring who sees or hears. He cries because he had to kill Mason and Mason died without even bothering to ask why, why has Liam killed him.

‘Did he even know I…?’ Liam starts to ask himself.

Achilles wakes. The anger of the hero burst out again, explosive, and Liam has never felt this much like a timebomb – why, demands the Greek demi-god, why are you crying over the body of the man, the monster, who killed my Patroclus? What have I ever done to Hector, and what has Hector done to me?

Liam wishes he had the strength to stop him, to plead with him. The warrior, angry, pushes Liam down, wants to punish him, for showing mercy – for crying at the death of the man who’s killed Patroclus.

Liam cries, he cries and cries, but his body belongs to Achilles now, and Achilles screams in rage, tears a hole in the back of Mason’s ankles and slides a rope through it. He drags Hector’s body – Mason’s, around the city of Troy, under the shocked and horrified eyes of King Priam and Queen Hecuba, screams in rage, covering the sounds of the thousand Trojans, covering Liam’s pained howling, until the only sound under the sky is the sound of Achilles’ fury.

The next time Liam is back he lies on his bed. He finds himself starfished there, and when he comes to, he finds himself a bit disoriented. He lifts up on his elbows, finding Malia sitting on Theo’s chair. She notices he’s woken and smiles softly at him.

She looks tired and sad. He hopes Achilles hasn’t hurt her.

“Malia!” he rushes to sit, but she raises a hand and gestures him to stay where he is.

“We’ve given you so much stuff to make you sleep I wouldn’t be surprised if it messed up even with your werewolf healing. Just stay there for another while”

Liam frowns but obeys.

He looks around. It’s barely after dawn, or so it looks like.

“What happened?” he asks.

She sighs, and asks him what is the last time he remembers.

Liam tries to answer, but then stops, a lump in his throat.

“I… Mason. Mason died. And Achilles dragged Hector’s body… around the walls of Troy”

She nods: “Three times. I thought it was a joke. Instead he did it for real”

She sighs and shakes her head: “Well, you know what, this means that the one who’s talked with Priam was really Achilles. I have to say, I’m impressed. I thought he was just a cold-blood killer. Instead, he showed heart”

Liam almost feels compelled to step up and defend Achilles’ honor, but, to be honest, he’s not sure he can do that. Too many bad memories, too fresh. Maybe in a while.

‘Sorry buddy, don’t take this personally’

Malia exhales loudly and starts recapping on the main events since Liam was conscious, last.

“You’ve dragged Hector’s body around Troy and then you’ve brought it back here. You’ve ordered to have Patroclus’ body burned, which, by the way, many of the other leaders were very happy about. The ceremony was nice. Probably more than Theo would ever deserve” she jokes, snorting.

Liam glares. He doesn’t add anything, but it’s enough. She shrugs and smiles apologetically to him: “Yeah, I know, he’s not that bad anymore. But can you blame me? He’s almost killed me. Anyway…”

Malia goes on. King Priam has come, deep in the night, disguised as a shepherd. A man Malia describes as ‘glowing and hot’ was accompanying him.

“Apollo” Liam mutters: “in the legend, it’s the god Apollo”

Malia shrugs: “Yeah, maybe. Thetis mentioned that too. Whatever. The king wanted Hector’s body back. Guess what? I was expecting Achilles to slice him into tiny pieces and then eat them. Instead he cried and treated him really well. They ate together, you know… one of this Greek banquet things”

Liam frowns, sitting up abruptly. His head spins a bit, admittedly.

“And?”

Malia shrugs again: “And nothing. Achilles was really civil. So much that I was suspecting you had a part in it. But you didn’t, did you?”

Liam shakes his head. He looks away. He thinks about the poem: king Priam approaches Achilles and manages to convince him to give him the body of the son Achilles himself has killed. Achilles consents. This is what happened, he reasons.

He closes his eyes, shakes his head.

“Then the most is done. Now I have to keep playing until I die” he murmurs.

Malia snorts: “You mean, until Achilles dies” she corrects him: “stop thinking you’re him. You aren’t. believe me, you aren’t”

Liam holds her gaze, trying to read any possible double meaning behind her words. Malia isn’t the type to add layer of meanings, true, but, she’s changed a lot during her days here, so Liam wouldn’t exclude it, just like that.

“Has he hurt you?” he asks. Malia raises an eyebrow in a very eloquent way, and Liam huffs, smiling.

“I mean, has he tried to?” he amends.

She shakes her head no: “No. he’s actually asked my presence around a lot, like you do. It was very tricky to figure if it was him or you, sometimes”

Liam grimaces: “Is my temper that bad?” he tries to joke.

She looks at him with a very serious expression: “Not really. You’re actually much better at this anger-controlling shit, if you want my opinion”

She straightens wrinkles from her dress. Liam follows the movement of her fingers, soothed.

“You think?” he asks, in a tiny voice, slowly raising his eyes to meet hers.

She scoffs and looks away, then meets his gaze again. Her expression is full of affection and a tad exasperated. Liam remembers she had a sister – he wonders if he’s becoming like a younger brother, for her. one she has to take care of, constantly, and depends on her.

That’s not exactly healthy, is it?

“Liam, the guy is way worse than you are. And you know what? I think being him is doing a lot of good to you, too. You’re more in control, when you’re back to being you. And you’ve seen what kind of shit can happen, if you lose control”

Her eyes harden when she adds that last part. Liam almost shivers under her stare, but bravely nods.

When he goes to sleep and passes out, Achilles taking control over their shared body again, Liam feels slightly less anxious at the idea of leaving the demi-god the upper hand. Achilles knows that he’s going to die soon, as well, and feels exhausted, tired, seemingly just waiting the end.

Until the end comes.

Liam is in his tent, half-conscious of what Achilles is doing – absent-mindedly playing his lire, discussing with Automedon about his horses.

The Greeks are facing defeat again, but Odysseus has a plan, one that will help them get inside the city. Odysseus, Diomedes and Menelaus barge into his tent, scowling Automedon and Alcimus away – but not Briseis, who picks another glass of wine and takes place in Patroclus’ seat, crossing her legs.

Achilles chuckles.

“My friends, you’d better let her stay. Odysseus, you look like a man with a plan” he comments.

He’s right: Odysseus has a plan. It involves a lot of wood, a fake horse, and a lie.

Two days after the Greeks act out the plan. They pretend to leave, the camp dismounted, leaving some warriors inside the belly of the wooden beast. Thinking the enemy gone, the Trojans celebrate like crazy, like anyone who’s endured a ten years siege and lost so much and so many, but survived. The horse is dragged inside, and at night its belly empties its dangerous content.

Achilles is among the warriors raining blood and death on the sleepy city.

Briseis is safe, on board of one of the ship of the Mirmidons, but Achilles is here, doing what he does best – killing, and conquering.

Until the arrow comes, first one then the others, and Achilles dies, and so does Liam.

‘Patroclus’ Achilles thinks, blinking in vain the fog from his glassy eyes: ‘I found love on the shores of Troy’ he thinks.

Liam is overwhelmed with pain. The warrior shushes him, whispering sweet nonsense to Liam’s brain. Achilles wants to die – he’s known he’d die here for along time. He knew it would happen. So did Liam, with even more certainty, maybe.

But he wasn’t ready to die, really.

“We found love in this war” Achilles murmurs gently to Liam’s conscience.

‘So we did’ Liam whispers back.

‘We found love on the shores of Troy’.

And then, dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we goes. This one hurt, but it was really, really fun to write. I'm sorry for the angst, I hope it's not too ooc.
> 
> Pwease wemembew to leave a comment or any kind of feedback, those are cookies and I'm hungry!!


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